


Of Escorts and Espionage

by hisboywriter



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adventure, Espionage, Falling In Love, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-07-27 15:46:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 95,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7624516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hisboywriter/pseuds/hisboywriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance preened. Escort? That sounded kind of sexy and badass. “Why, of course, Princess,” he said, standing up to offer his hand at Allura. “I would escort you to the most Galra-infested reaches of the galaxy if you asked.”</p><p>Allura’s arm rose but the hand she placed in Lance’s palm was not hers.</p><p>It was Keith’s.<br/>~<br/>AKA I just really wanted klance blossoming through an adventure<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

“This is all your fault.”

Lance stood by the accusation, and practically could hear Keith’s eyes rolling.  The gesture would have been more effective though if he were actually facing Lance. The current predicament of being bound, back to back with Keith of all people by the magnetic cuffs did a good job of preventing that.

So Keith elbowed him instead. Tried to, anyway.

“Hey, that’s my _spleen_!” Lance angled his head but still unable to shoot a look at Keith. Their backs were too close, bumping and brushing as the wiggled and strained against the locks that had their wrists connected.

It had happened in a blink, after a bold dive by Keith that shoved him out of the way from a Gladiator’s blow. Lance had been totally fine without the help, and hadn’t appreciated the weight of Keith barreling into him and knocking his gun out of his grip.

Now there was a lot of Keith. It was fraying all of Lance’s nerves, even from the muscle of Keith’s back shifting with effort, their fingers bumping and tangling. There was little comfort that they were geared up so Lance didn’t actually feel Keith’s skin against his own.

“Ow!”

“Stop moving so much,” Keith said.

“You’re the-Hey! Knock it off, Keith!” Lance yanked at his arms.

Keith yelped, and tugged back, but they almost toppled into the incoming Gladiators. Lance could swear Allura programmed them with a little more malice when they did group exercises.

“Will you stop whining and start thinking of a way to get out of this?”

Lance scowled. Then, he felt Keith tense and move on instinct as the Gladiator’s baton came down.Would have been fine had he not forgotten he had the weight that was Lance attached to him.

They crashed spectacularly on their sides with a harmonious yell.

The light on the Gladiators’ foreheads went out and they stilled.

Training session: fail.

“Yeah,” Lance said, exhaling hard, “I hate you right now.”

“Me? I _saved_ you!”

“Well, _great_ job there given my point of view right now. Which by the way, is not much lower than I see you.”

“Maybe you’re right where you belong on the--”

“Mullet!”

“Cargo pilot!”

“Enough.” Shiro’s voice shut them both up on cue. Lance had the unfortunate view of Shiro’s stern stare as he came from above deck where he had been observing them.

“Keith started it,” Lance muttered. He grunted when Keith shoved against him.

“Stay still.” Shiro crouched down to set them free. Allura would not have shown such mercy. “You’d been doing well up to that point.”

Free, both Paladins leapt away from each other.

“He’s the one that freaked out and made it worse,” Keith said.

“It’s _Keith’s_ fault.”

Shiro scanned them both, arms crossed. “You both faulted. Keith, you’re still reacting on impulse. It’s good in battle, but it’s also risky to your teammates if you forget about them.” And before Lance could look triumphant at the scolding, Shiro said, “And Lance, you were trying to act like a hotshot again.”

Both Paladins lowered their heads.

It was Keith’s fault, Lance wanted to say again. It was only around Keith he faltered (if he would even admit he did), especially now that they were having not just team sessions but paired ones. Keith and his stupid little ponytail when his hair bugged him (um, just cut it?). Keith’s constant training the times Lance walked by and spotted him there (and did not stay to watch him a little). Keith--

“Lance.”

Lance straightened right up and cleared his throat. “Yeah-er...yes?”

Shiro gave him a look that said he knew Lance’s mind had drifted elsewhere. He crossed his arms, and his tone was gentle when he spoke again. “You two are more compatible than you realize. You’ll come to see that soon.”

Both Lance and Keith side-glanced each other.

Keith made this face that must have been stupid it pulled uncomfortably at Lance’s stomach. “I guess,” Keith said.

Lance conceited with a shrug of one shoulder. “Okay, but if we’re so compatible, how come you’ve been pairing us up so much lately? My eyes are starting to burn looking at him so much.”

“You’re not exactly--”

“Focus,” Shiro said, loud enough to squander another argument in the making. “I’ve been pairing you up to show just how well you can work together.”

Lance cocked his brow. He figured the answer wasn’t so simple as that, but then Shiro said they should call it a day, and _that_ Lance agreed with.

Yet just before he could seek sanctuary in a shower, Shiro added, “We better head over. Allura should be calling us soon.”

Lance perked up. “Head over?” He glanced up as Allura’s voice echoed down on them, demanding Team Voltron to gather up. “Man, I hope it’s not another one of her training obstacle courses. The last one left my hair singed.”

He pointed his accusation at Keith as they followed Shiro out. Keith met his stare so easily, like it was nothing.

“You’re the one that didn’t take my instructions seriously.” Keith broke their eye contact and was now saying something to Shiro that Lance wasn’t really picking up on. For some reason his attention was more curious on a few strands of Keith’s hair that must have been tickling his ear.

Weird.

Lance snapped out of it with a shake of his head, and hurried on ahead of Shiro and Keith. Seriously, prolonged drills with Keith was not doing good things to Lance’s mental state. Not to mention the general confinement they found themselves in for periods of time in between helping a planet or chasing off Galra forces.

Lance could use a shower about now. But lately Keith was unlike the sweat he could wipe clean or the debris he could scrub off. It was like Keith was getting under his skin.

All that pair-up work they did now didn’t help matters either.

At least he wasn’t crazy like Keith to breathe and live in the training deck. How many times had Lance found him there when he’d been given the lame duty of calling Keith to a Voltron meeting? Enough that the memories were printed behind Lance’s eyelids, a threatening blink away from popping up.

Lance decided on a long, cold shower, after this.

Everyone else was in the control room when Lance jogged in, with Coran fiddling away with something on the panels. Lance waved at Hunk and Pidge, and smiled at Allura.

“Hey.” Hunk waved back. “How’d your super fun training session go with Keith?" He looked past Lance. "Isn't he with you?"

“What am I, his caretaker?” he asked, taking a seat and very much deciding not to admit he and Keith had locked wrists and fallen over together. He swore he heard Pidge say something to Hunk, who chortled. “What was that?”

Pidge lifted their head. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“I think you’re confusing me with Keith.”

“Um, no. Definitely not.”

Lance opened his mouth, but Keith and Shiro came in. Allura nodded at everyone’s presence, and signaled for complete focus. Maybe a tiny bit of Lance’s strayed to Keith when the Red Paladin came to stand beside him.

“Alright everyone. We’ve a new operation,” Allura said, jumping right in.“We’ve barely begun on our duty to liberate the galaxy of Zarkon.” Her hand, misleadingly delicate in looks, swiped a panel and the galaxies of all the universes bloomed into a map around their heads.

Like usual, Lance’s gaze sought out Earth. Couldn’t find it.

“We all know just how much the Galra Empire has taken over,” Allura said, pointing for reference, “but it’s this one small galaxy yet untouched by the Galra that has piqued our latest course of action.”

Well, Lance thought, that definitely sounded better than the torturous exercises Allura mislabeled as ‘education’.

“Uh, hi,” Hunk raised his hand, “isn’t that galaxy surrounded by others that have made a distress call at some point? I mean, that’s what the red means, right?”

“Exactly! Gold star for you,” Coran said, then chuckled at a joke no one else seemed to understand. “As if gold stars existed. But, ahem, yes. After investigating further, we’ve received nothing to suggest trouble.”

Pidge actually lifted their gaze off the computer they always lugged around. “That’s kind of odd,” they said, “the calls from the other galaxies look like they happened years ago. As in, hundreds and hundreds of years ago.”

“Sooo, they’re next to be hit?” Lance offered.

Allura frowned. “Actually, that’s the part we’re curious about. This is planet Laranta, the centerpoint of this galaxy.” A turn of her palm to zoom into the planet. It was bright, wrapped in blues and green. It reminded Lance of Earth, at least enough to pull at his gut.

“I remember,” Allura continued, “it was a center of commerce and politics in this part of the universe. Alliances have been made at Laranta’s tables.”

“It doesn’t sound like Zarkon would care about politics,” Keith said.

“Wait, hold up,” Hunk held up both hands in a stopping gesture, “are you thinking we divert from the distressed galaxies and go poking around this place that seems to be fine on its own?”

Allura frowned. “It’s them being ‘fine’ that’s suspicious. None of our situation is ideal at the moment, but it’s not just to see why they’ve yet to be conquered. There’s an artifact they have.”

“An artifact,” Pidge said, sounding like they were already not keen on the idea. “Like some kind of relic?”

Tilting her head, Allura said, “Something like that, I suppose. Its exact properties are still unknown, even to the Alteans. I remember it as a kind of...power source. It kept that part of the galaxy at peace for centuries, allegedly, and now that we’ve found no sign of distress there, it might be just something to help us in our battle for the universe.”

“Maybe it’s keeping the Galra at bay somehow,” Keith added. Lance snuck him a glance, feeling like he knew where Keith was going with this.

“You’re up for this,” Lance said, if a little incredulous.

Keith actually looked at him, but Lance refused to look away even if it made him feel warm. “It would be crazier if we didn’t. If this artifact thing is keeping Zarkon at bay, maybe it’s something we can use too. Or even worse, what if there’s a way Zarkon _can_ get to it, and who knows what kind of powers it can gives him?”

“Yeah, I’m not down for the idea of Zarkon getting the last edge he needs to take Voltron,” Hunk said, shaking his head.

“So we would just take it?” Lance asked Keith.

Keith’s shoulders tensed at the bite of those words. “If it meant saving all the galaxies, then yeah.”

“And if it _is_ a power source that say, kept the whole planet or that whole galaxy in tact? Just pluck it like that without even asking,” Lance crossed his arms, snorting, “I knew you were cold, but--”

“I’m not saying it like that!”

“Eyes front,” Allura’s snap for attention was perhaps a few levels more effective than Shiro’s. “We are not here to make a drastic decision without knowing all the variables.”

“Allura’s right,” Shiro said. “That being said, we might regret if we don’t at least look into it. We need any advantage we can get.”

“Hm, yes.” Coran stroked his mustache. “You’re all still new at this despite all that’s happened. It’s not like you’ve had years of experience to rely on and help you squeeze out of tight situations. Ah, speaking of,” he beamed, “we’ll be sure to get you the proper attire, Keith.”

“...Uh?”

“We aren’t barging in as Voltron,” Allura said. “I’ve thought it over with Shiro, and we will enter under aliases, and leave with no one the wiser. One of the worlds we helped will be our key in.”

The planets flickered once, a new image stretching wide enough for all of them to take in. Fair skinned, dark eyes, long waves of hair with a disheveled touch here and there that did not detract from the beauty. Almost human-like, with glimmer along the cheekbones. Almost like a hint of scales.

Lance sat up straight and at the edge of his seat, eyes electric at the sight of something pretty. “Wish we had gotten a celebration party _there_.” Then, a tick later, “Whoa, she kind of looks like you, Keith. A lot, actually.”

Wait, did he just associate something pretty to Keith?

Nah.

“ _They_ ,” Allura corrected, “but yes, their similarities are just the luck we need. They’re from a quiet planet we shook off the Galra forces that were going to drill in their oceans. They are more than willing to assist us in this mission.”

Keith did not look like he agreed. “Uh, _what_?”

“You’re impersonating them,” Coran added, pointing at Keith, and then at the picture. Then at Keith, then at the picture again. “Yes? Got it?”

Keith blinked, and it was almost hilarious how he stared at Coran. “I...don’t have long hair?”

“So you got it cut,” Shiro said, smiling sheepishly at the attempt at humor (or what Lance figured was an attempt at it).

“Wait, wait, wait, hold up.” Lance almost laughed. “Am I hearing this right? Keith of all people is going Mission: Impossible here? _Keith_?”

“I’m not sure what your reference is, but yes. We don’t have time on our side,” Allura said, coming closer to Keith. Lance frowned at the attention, more so when Keith looked like he didn’t want her to come any closer. “This is a chance Voltron has to take.”

“Think of it as kind of like being a decoy,” Coran added like that would help the justification. “While you’re in there diverting attention, Allura and Shiro can look around all they want.”

Lance was about to drop something about Allura coming along so easily. Then she gave them all a look from the first time they tried to limit her involvement and he shut up.

“Well, Keith does draw attention,” Pidge said, looking right at Lance with a smirk.

Hunk nodded. “It doesn’t sound too crazy the more I think about it.”

“Keith,” Allura said, now standing only a few feet away, “you’re the best suited to be the face of this mission.”

Keith opened his mouth and pointed at Coran. “He said something about _tight_.”

“You’ll have to blend in, naturally. You’ll have to wear the clothes traditional to the planet you’ll be hailing from,” Coran said with a nod, like he himself had been working on the customization of the clothing. Actually, he probably was. Lance figured he would be the type. “But,” Coran said, “the tights are under the formal robe.”

Lance pressed his lips into a line, failed. His smirk was creeping up, because Keith’s face was all kinds of gray right now. If only the girls who sighed all dreamily at the sight of him got a load of him now.

“Still loving the idea of going there?” Lance asked.

“It’s a lot to put on you,” Shiro said, breaking Lance’s moment. Keith’s face calmed as Shiro approached, and looked just as it normally did when the Black Paladin squeezed his shoulder.

“But,” Shiro continued, “I know you can do this.”

“It’s not that I won’t,” Keith said, but whatever else he was going to say as a buffer to this idea, he never did. He exhaled and fisted his hands. “We can’t let Zarkon find that...thing, if it’s something he can use.”

“That’s the spirit! You just leave it to me,” Coran said. “You’ll be more convincing than a Malitor at the--”

Keith groaned.

Lance laughed.

“What are you laughing about?” Allura asked, staring Lance down. “Don’t think you’re just getting a front row view of this.”

“What?” Lance scoffed. “Princess, you know I’m all about saving lives, and looking good while doing it. I’m ready for anything.”

“Wonderful. With that attitude, you’ll make a fine escort.”

Lance preened. Escort? That sounded kind of sexy and badass. “Why, of course, my lady,” he said, standing up to offer his hand at Allura. “I would escort you to the most Galra-infested reaches of the galaxy if you asked.”

Allura’s arm rose but the hand she placed in Lance’s palm was not hers.

It was Keith’s.

Behind him, Hunk burst out laughing.

**-x-**

Lace got the feeling that Blue was mocking him.

At this point, it wasn’t rare for one Paladin or another to be caught grumbling or muttering about some remark their Lion made. It had become a universal truth and routine to hear (or rather, feel? see? something) their Lions even out of battle.

“You know,” Lance said, paying Blue's commentary little mind (man, he was going to miss his Lion) as he inspected himself.  “I gotta say I look damn good in these clothes.”

“You’re really the reincarnation of Narcissist,” Pidge said, not quite under their breath. Unlike the others, they got to stay cozy in their preferred clothing. Seriously, Pidge had it made with being the tech-guru sometimes.

“I still think Shiro makes more sense,” Hunk said. When Lance glared at him, he took no offense to it. “I mean it. Shiro’s...you know, bigger. If someone is going to be some kind of guardian to a noble or prince or anything, you surround them with big guys, don’t you?”

“No,” Pidge said.

Lance flashed a smile their way. “Thank you, Pidge--”

“Lance isn’t going as a bodyguard, per se. You all watch too many movies. Plus, better they don’t stand out. Shiro would stand out where they’re going. And not in the way we want Keith to. Shiro’s better off with Allura..”

Lance sneered and adjusted the sleeves of his outfit. He was washed in dark colors, but Coran did a fine job of making him look spiffy. He even had a little glimmer to his cheeks to give the illusion they were...whatever species they were again.

It barely felt like an hour since the start of the operation, where rundowns were given, particularly for Lance and Keith so they had the foundation of the planet they were impersonating having come from. Though it had been much longer than that, Lance still felt a weird pressure on his hand, like it was remembering the weight of Keith’s, the feel of his gloves and pads of his fingertips.

Lance squashed the memory down and regrouped on how fine he looked.

“Yeah, well, Lance also flirts with anything shiny,” Hunk said. “No offense, man, but think you can keep it together for the sake of, you know...the universe?”

“Pfft. What? Whatever. I’m plenty focus,” Lance said, giving his backside a final look. The boots he had were really nice too, kind of fancy and longer than he preferred. They hit at his calf, but the comfort was reassuring. He could kick ass in it if he had to.

Hunk sighed and gestured as if Lance giving himself another once-over proved his point.

“What about you?” Lance asked, eyes on Hunk. “Mr. Back-Up. Sure you won’t fall asleep at your post or be busy writing cyber letters for Allura to send to your girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend. And I’ll have you know it takes a lot to record what we’ve been up to. We don’t exactly ever get a break.” Hunk beckoned Lance over as he spoke. “I think we should be more concerned they aren’t going to find you guys out."

Lance came by, letting Hunk fix whatever it was he thought needed fixing. “Chill, Hunk. Allura said it’s a bustling kind of place. New faces come in all the time.”

“Just not robotic lions,” Pidge said. “And new faces coming and going isn’t enough to get into areas only special guests can get to. Actually, given how many times Lance snuck out of Galaxy Garrison, he’s actually pretty suited for this kind of thing.”

“Thank you, Pidge.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

Lance pulled a face. Pidge ignored it and tested the feedback on the tiny device tucked into Lance’s ear. On a particularly loud test that had Lance clutching his ear, Pidge’s apology did not come out sounding sorry at all.

The argument about that would have to come later; Coran strode in just then, chest up, head high. Clearing his throat, he said, “Allow me to introduce one of my greatest works yet,” and he announced the name Lance was sure he was going to forget to pronounce.

Or he might have forgotten it the instant Keith debuted.

Nothing on Keith’s body was constructed with combat in mind. Starting from his feet, the dark slippers he wore made Lance think of a delicate ballerina in her ballets (and by the look on Keith’s face, he probably thought so too). The comfortable attire and bags at Keith’s hips were stripped, replaced by a swath of rich fabric red as his Lion, if somehow more vibrant. A pattern too intricate to really appreciate from afar arched the lines of his thigh, hip, and up to the high collar that accentuated a neck Lance did not remember being so...slendery and nice.

With the light glimmer Coran powdered into Keith’s skin, and despite not having the longer hair, Lance felt like he was looking at royalty.

He blinked, and realized he was really staring, like enough that he’d forgotten to breathe a second. Yikes.

“Wow.” Hunk approached, inspecting. Coran was practically all aglow at the attention his work was getting. “You made this, Coran? It looks great.”

“I am an Altean of many talents, yes,” Coran said with a stroke of his mustache.

“Impressive,” Pidge said, “this might actually work.” Keith crossed his arms, angling away when Hunk got too close. “Though you might want to work on your face, Keith.”

Keith frowned deeper. “What’s wrong with my face?”

“Besides everything?” Lance suggested.

Pidge ignored him. “You’re basically royalty from this humble little planet that’s seeking a potential ally in Laranta.”

“Be like a less, more effective version of Lance,” Hunk said, bypassing the ‘hey!’ that came from the Blue Paladin. “You know, give a little charm, but not too much, you’re not giving it away.”

“Giving what away?”

“Ignore that part,” Pidge said loudly, shooting Hunk a look that Keith didn’t get. “He means keep in mind what Allura and Coran have been prepping you on.”

“Not to fear, for I am a great teacher.” Coran hesitated, squinting his eyes at Keith carefully. “Though you’re not the best student.”

“He’s a dropout,” Lance said, definitely not looking at the stretch of clothed neck on Keith when the Red Paladin turned to look at Coran.

“Oh, well, that kind of explains that,” Coran said. “But,” he nodded at Keith with faith, “you are a Paladin now, and thus able to adapt.”

“More like we don’t have many options,” Pidge said. When they’d asked why Allura wasn’t doing this part, she’d made the valid point that she’d need the most ground covered and her shapeshifting would prove vital then.

Keith exhaled. “I’d feel better if I got to keep my bayard. Or at least my dagger.”

“Yes, that will go well with any pat-downs they might give. Improvise should things go bad,” Coran said.

“Guys, we’ll be fine,” Lance said, stepping closer finally. His legs had been rooted to the stop when Keith showed up. “I’ll be there too after all.”

They all looked at him as if that was part of their problem.

Luckily, it was at that time Shiro and Allura entered, dolled down in more common-folk attire. Allura had changed into clothing similar to Shiro, but had yet to shapeshift. Lance watched their reactions to his newfound look, brimming at the approval he got. They then surveyed Keith’s ensemble, and Lance found his own gaze straying back to the Red Paladin.

“Good work, Coran. And just in time. The ships are here,” Allura said. “Shiro and I will take the second one. Lance, Keith--”

“I know,” Keith said. “I just...gotta act like a prince. I got it.”

“No, not like a prince given what Coran said. More like a marquess, I think,” Hunk said.

Keith blinked. “What the heck is a marquess?”

“How do you know this, Hunk?” Lance asked, raising a brow.

Hunk gave him a sigh. “Come on, there was a whole lesson about the first generation warships in the making and depending on their stats they were given chivalric ranks where--”

Lance held a hand up quick to stop him. “Sorry I asked.”

“Paladins,” Allura reeled in their focus. “Coran, start moving the castle after Shiro and I take off, but stick to the plan that the least likely we’re seen, the better. Pidge will provide support from here and have access to the Lions should things go bad. Hunk--”

“Yup. Back up for Coran. I’m on it,” Hunk said. He looked to Lance. “Remember...um, you know. Safety first.”

Lance couldn’t help his small smile at that. He bumped Hunk’s arm and watched him hurry off to the corridor toward the Lions. “Well,” he looked at everyone else, “shall we get this mission started?”

A round of nodding, and everyone went their respective ways. Lance lingered slightly as Shiro came to Keith.

“You look ready,” Shiro said.

Lance couldn’t make out Keith’s expression. He’d turned around, revealing the way his attire hugged his back, tapered down to the slenderness of his waist. And smoothed over Keith’s backside. Was he really wearing tights under all that?

Nope. Lance jumped his eyes back up. He didn’t realize his fingers rubbed together.

He snapped to and caught up with Keith to board the first ship docking. Apparently the aforementioned liberated planet was more than eager to assist Voltron and sent actual transportation befitting of a high-status official. Equipped with fine seating and ample escape pods.

Lance took a breath to admire the ship. Sleek, beautiful, and not too big. He’d love to pilot it.

He was very aware of Keith again when they stood side by side to the mouth of the loading deck. The aliens, very much human-like in person, greeted them with gratitude and professionalism.

“The Princess has spoken with us already and we’re ready to depart,” an alien said to them. Lance detected an accident Allura had assured them they shouldn’t have to mimic.

Lance felt his stomach flip, and he blamed it on the pretty aliens and not because Keith’s arm brushed against his.

With a mental parting to their respective Lions they left behind, they began to board.

“No backing out now,” Lance said.

“I never do. You?”

“Please. You know I don’t.”

Inside, luxury awaited. Lance did not hesitate to bask in the attention he got once he was seated. He might have cast glances at Keith, who tried to wave off the attention as politely as he was recently taught to do.

As the ship began its course, they were left to themselves and pre-mission jitters. Even though they were all just a private call away thank to the devices hidden in their ears, Lance felt like this mission was unlike the others. His grandma always believed in bad omens, and she would say the feeling he had was part of it.

Lance let the jitters run its course instead as he sulked around the drink he’d been provided. No pretty alien nearby to chat up, just Keith, who was--well, he looked like he was sleeping.

“You can’t already be tired,” Lance said.

Keith’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’m not. I’m going over all the info Coran gave me.” He sighed as both eyes opened. “It’s a lot.”

“Not really,” Lance said, “we get a lot of wiggle room to improvise actually. We really got lucky.”

Keith narrowed an eye at him. “It’s a lot for _me_ , then.”

Lance blinked at that, then looked at his drink, contemplating. Then, he got up and took the seat beside Keith’s. “Alright,” he said, “let’s do this.”

Keith stared at him. In the shade of the ship, the sparkle under his eyes was a little more prominent. Definitely looked like the hint of scales. Coran really nailed the details.

But Lance turned his face away to focus back on the issue. “We got time before we get there. I’m going to quiz you.”

“...What?”

“What do you mean _what_?”

Keith blinked twice, then looked forward. “Okay,” he said, and it’s not what Lance thought he would say at all. “Fine. It couldn’t hurt.”

Lance wasn’t sure what to do with the gratitude. So he chucked it aside and got down to work. And work it was. At first, he had the mind to shake Keith until his brain registered the information, but a little trial and error ended up sparing them both from choking the other from sheer frustration.

It made up for the bulk of the time. They ate through their study session after the aliens provided a meal, and reported in with the others at the agreed upon time intervals. Things were looking pretty damn good for this bold operation. Like it might go without a hitch after all.

“Stop that,” Lance said.

Keith chewed slowly. “Stop what?”

“You’re eating like you have no thought about what you’re eating. You gotta show a little more appreciation and, jeez, come on, sit up straighter. Did Coran teach you anything? There.”

Keith grunted, and glared a little, but did straighten. He stopped eating though, watching his food.

Lance, in turn, was watching his profile, legs propped up. “What?”

“We’re going in half-blind on a hunch.”

“Allura’s pretty sure it’s more than a hunch.”

Keith shook his head. “If there really is a powerful relic we can use…”

“It might be too good to be true?”

Keith glanced at him. “Something like that.”

Lance felt his breath come a little more shallow. It must have been the ship’s interior that darkened Keith’s eyes. A deep, dark purple that contrasted the fairness of his skin. And then he was kind of smiling, half-way like. Lance’s stomach felt funny all over again. His gaze dropped to Keith’s bare hands, and it was only now Lance realized he rarely saw them exposed.

“Thanks,” Keith said, which was one time too many already. “You’re not as terrible a tutor as I thought you’d be.”

“Oh...uh, it was nothing. I can’t have you screw us up just because you forgot one little thing.” Actually, what Lance had meant to say was he wasn’t the one who had dropped out, but the insult hadn’t come out as quickly as expected.

Keith looked at him. “Still--”

A blast against the ship rocked them out of their seats.

There was a heartbeat of utter silence in Lance’s head, and then the rush of adrenaline. Stunned, Keith recovered first, leaping to his feet with eyes darting around. Lance was up another heartbeat after, eyes wide.

“Was that a…?”

They both bolted forward, staggering as something hit the ship again. An alarm system blared, and they could hear the feeble cries of the aliens on board, terrified. Keith shot out to the front, locating the cockpit.

Lance couldn’t make out where they were at. Lights from blasters blinded their route.

“What’s shooting at us?!”

Another shot that had the ship pivot to one side entirely. Lance knew it before it happened that he crashed into Keith, and it was really the most inappropriate time to notice the delicate scent clinging to Keith’s robes.

“We won’t last,” Keith was saying, bracing against Lance and pushing to the pilot. “Let me.”

He gripped the controls and barely gave a warning before he spiraled them out of the way from another shot. Lance held onto the original pilot, feeling everything in him churning as they smoothed out.

Not for long, because Keith dived down. Lance peeked at the readings, the panels. They were at the edge of the galaxy now. How far back were the others?

“Pidge? Pidge, can you hear me? Shiro? Allura? Hunk!” Lance cursed. “Nothing. Is something jamming the connection--Whoa! Careful, Keith! There are others in the ship too!”

“Better a few bumps than be shot dead,” Keith said, and yanked the controls to have them arc over an incoming blow. It felt like hours, though it had only been seconds.

Lance was breathing hard, but not as hard as the poor alien clinging to him.

“Galra?” he asked.

Keith brought up a view with a few buttons pressed experimentally. “No...it looks like someone took them out back there but, ack, come on,” he tapped the buttons again but the image was fizzing out. The ship sputtered, the alarm still screaming its warning. “Great.”

“Wait, that’s it.” Keith nodded toward a planet. “Lance, escape pods. They’ll have enough cloaking to get out of the galaxy. Hopefully. Maybe they’ll reach the others.”

“Wait, you--”

“Lance!”

Lance grit his teeth. Keith was navigating the damaged hunk of luxury that wasn’t meant for surviving battle. Questions mounting, Lance tore away from the cockpit and went about gathering the members on the ship. He knew the damage a bad landing could do. It wasn’t like a simulator. He felt his heart beating hard.

Despite the protests of the alien, Lance got them out. There was still one pod left, but…

He hurried back with only a few new bruises along the way.

“This ship’s falling apart,” Lance said.

“We’re in bad shape. We’re coming for a bad landing.”

“Wait, you’re not actually going to try and reach the planet? The ship won’t make it! We have to get to the pod or-”

“Strap in or get flung around!”

Lance did, but not happily. “If you kill us, I’m going to haunt your ghost.” The co-pilot’s seat hadn’t been utilized on the flight here, but he could figure out enough of the mechanics to help where he could.

Keith caught his eye, but they didn’t say anything. The ship careened and trembled, vibrating by the time they somehow managed to enter the planet’s atmosphere. Lance held on tight, the cracks on the windows splintering wider as the pressure and speed took its toll.

And it was all in Keith’s hands.

The crash knocked all the breath and wit out of Lance.

He remembered seeing glimpses of the vibrant ground through the wreck of the window, thought he heard Keith shouting at him not to tense up for the landing. Next thing, Lance was blinking back to the reality that they had landed.

Crashed, but not dead.

“Ow…” Lance craned his neck. The alarms weren’t going off anymore. The eerie silence around him was only overcome by the roar of his blood as the adrenaline held high. He straightened slowly, looking to his left.

Keith was breathing hard, but just as alive. He was already unstrapping and pushing himself up. By the wince, he’d gotten his fair share of bruising. At least no head injuries.

“Are you hurt?” Keith asked him.

Lance groaned as he stood up, lighting patting himself. “I think the goods are okay. I’m not crooked anywhere or anything?”

Keith let out a shaky breath. “You’re good,” he said, and already hurried out. Lance didn’t know how he was able to keep moving, but he trailed behind, mindful of his tenderness. His head was beginning to throb.

He touched his head. “Hey, you’re bleeding.”

Keith paused as if to register his injuries. His hand came up and touched one side of his head. “Just a head wound. It’s not serious.”

“The hell you mean it’s not-- _Keith!_ ”

Keith had jogged to the hatch and started opening it like it was totally safe to do. Lance caught up in time to grab his wrist, hard. Even in their current state, Lance could feel the skin was softer than he’d imagined.

“Are you crazy?” Lance asked.

Keith held his gaze. “We have to find out where we are. All the ship’s signals and diagnostics are shot. Staying in here won’t help.”

“We don’t even know where we are, and you might have a concussion.”

“We’re on the planet we need to be. That’s enough,” Keith said. “Or are you scared now that you don’t have your Lion or weapon?”

Lance bristled. He pressed his lips tightly together, and helped Keith open the hatch, bracing himself. But no elusively hidden Galra ambushed them. Rather, a fresh rush of air swept over them, light filling in the darkness of the broken ship.

Keith made to step out first, but Lance got the better of him. “You’re not supposed to be going off on your own first, right?” It was the best excuse he could give. He didn’t wait for a response, keeping in a moan as he climbed out and shielded his eyes against the brightness.

Lush tropics hugged one side of them, and critters chirped and purred in the distance. The ground was lush and soft even under Lance’s boots. None of this looked like the squares of the center of commerce and politics. In fact, Lance couldn’t see anything like that at all around them. But it was beautiful.

And not where they were supposed to land in the slightest.

Keith came up beside him. It was only now that Lance realized Shiro must have been pairing them together as a build up to this mission.

And look where it got them. Of all places to crash in a world of commerce, it had to be in a patch of wilderness.

“Keith?”

“Yeah?”

"This is _definitely_ all your fault.”

 

**-X-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tacky title is tacky, apologies.
> 
> But thank you very much for reaching the end of this chapter of many chapters that probably won't be super short because I fail at that. I have the main plot already planned out and parts already written, but I really like dialogue so things can run away from me. 
> 
> Anyway I hope there are others who would take some enjoyment of klance building during some crazy mission (yes? maybe?)!
> 
> Thanks again for reading and all the gratitude for any feedback ♥


	2. Chapter 2

 Keith figured things could be worse.

He wasn’t an optimist by habit, but the reality of their lives still intact accounted for a hell of a lot. This was especially true when they were members of an elite group battling the likes of Zarkon and ten-thousand years of Galra oppression. As far as Keith could tell, being a Chosen Paladin was synonymous with ‘being in constant danger’.

Lance, however, did not agree with that first bit.

“ _My_ fault? I made sure we didn’t blow up into pieces out there!”

“We should have used the escape pod that was left!”

Keith grit his teeth and faced Lance. They had since relocated back into the heap that was left of the ship, confirming the severity of...well, everything. Transmitters shot. Any and all sensors dead.

“And what?” Keith asked. “Blow the whole mission before it started?”

“We could have regrouped!” Lance flailed his arms, then pulled another face (Keith had counted at least three by now).

“Whatever shot us down wouldn’t care if we regrouped.”

Lance looked away, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He went on about something that Keith wasn’t really listening to. He tried the transmitter again, but stopped when he realized Lance was up in his space.

Keith tensed when his arm was grabbed. “What are you--”

“I’m sick of seeing your blood like that. Gross, much?”

Keith grunted as he was jerked to sit down somewhere safe from the sparks sputtering from torn wires. “I’m fine. It’s--”

“Just a head wound? You’re unbelievable. Don’t move or I’m going to make that head wound of yours actually hurt.”

Keith blinked after him. He almost said it did hurt, but it was an ache Keith could adjust to. Whether it was from a risky flight or brawl, Keith knew pain on various levels. One more wouldn’t phase him much.

But there was a tone in Lance’s voice that kept him still. It wasn’t as though he aimed to upset Lance, past record aside saying differently. “Look,” he said, angling his head as Lance rummaged somewhere, “We’re here. We can’t let our goal get away.”

“Shut up.” Lance returned with a small, busted kit. When Keith looked at it questioningly, he said, “Not really first aid, but it’ll do. Stay still.”

Keith frowned, but did stay still, if only as a gesture to placate Lance enough to get him to stop dumping the blame on him. They had bigger problems than finger-pointing allowed.

Lance brushed away his hair. Keith expected him to smack it out of the way, but his fingers were nimble as he inspected the injury, and then dabbed something. Keith hissed.

“Ugh. How can you stand all this blood on you?”

“It’s not much, and head wounds--”

“Yeah, I know they bleed a lot. I’m not an idiot.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

Lance’s hand stilled a moment. “Stop talking.”

Keith allowed Lance to wipe at his forehead and pat at the source of the wound. For all the threats Lance had barked (rather, ‘yipped’) his way, it didn’t translate into his ministrations. And Keith couldn’t quite remember vividly being this close to Lance. The fabric of his outfit looked rich and durable, and his boots gave his legs a nice shape Keith hadn’t noticed until now.

“So now what,” Lance said suddenly.

Keith flicked his eyes up. “Huh?”

“I know we’re stuck here for now so...we better start thinking of our next move.” Lance leaned back, patchwork done, He grimaced as he dumped the cloth he’d used to remove the blood. “Least you look a little decent.”

Keith touched his forehead. He looked at Lance as he lowered his hand. “...Thanks. It actually feels better.” He hesitated, adjusting his tone to take out the earlier ire. “Are you okay? You were moving kind of slow.”

Lance caught Keith’s eye, then broke the gaze quickly.

“I’m cool, as always. Anyway.” It almost sounded like Lance cleared his throat. “So, we crash-landed with no sense of where to go.”

Keith stood up. “There should be signs of civilization somewhere. It’s a commerce planet, right?”

“What kind of commerce could one little galaxy have when Zarkon’s taken control over all others?”

“Enough that we should find some signs of them if we look around.”

“ _Or_ there could be something out there ready to kill us like whatever it was trying to kill us up there?”

Keith ducked back outside, taking in the air deep into his lungs. It was fresh, no hint of pollution. He thought, if he strained his senses, he could smell something like water. “It was at the edge of the galaxy. There’s no way to tell if the guys who attacked us were from this one.”

“Or if the ones who supposedly ‘saved’ us are from here either.” Lance sighed. “So much for keeping the peace, huh?”

“The aliens had backed up Allura about this galaxy.”

“Yeah, and they were also colonized by Zarkon for years. Things change.”

They both gazed up, studying the dark skies, scoping out clues of debauchery in an otherwise quiet, calm world. Nothing. Not even the distant sounds of cannons or spark of combat. Just the deep purples and blues dotted by stars, and what must be the planet’s closest moon, plump and far more colorful than any moon Keith had seen. Weird. It kind of looked more like Earth.

“I don’t see anything,” Keith said, looking ahead.

“Not even their sun.” Lance was craning his head this way and that. The light of the planet was like the moon's. “I thought we calculated it so we’d arrive in the morning?”

“Must have been too early a jump in the wormhole,” Keith said. “Maybe the others have a better chance with their calculations…”

“I don’t know. Something’s telling me there’s something...off.” Lance rubbed his arms as if he had goosebumps.

Keith scanned the area. He couldn’t determine what way looked more promising. “We should explore.”

“Um, yeah, no.”

“What?”

Lance crossed his arms. “There’s no way we’re running around blind.”

“You propose we just stay here?”

“Exactly.” Lance gestured up. “Any planet advanced as this knows when something comes in and out of orbit. They’ll know we crashed. They’ll come look for us.”

“There’s no guarantee.”

“They would have seen the ship that came crashing, which meant they would know _you_ were inside it.”

“I’m not that important.”

“You’re a diplomat here. They can’t just let you go missing. You’re important enough,” Lance said, not looking like he liked admitting even that much.

Just like Keith did not like the idea of sitting around doing anything. Already he felt tense in a restless kind of way. He flexed his hands, missing the stretch of his gloves around his knuckles.

As if Lance knew, he went on to add in a hushed tone, “And it wouldn’t look right if you ran off like you knew what you were doing.”

“It’s not like they know what they-I mean... _I_ am like. They never met them-er...me, in person.”

Lance raised an unamused brow. “We’re staying.”

Keith fisted his hands, feeling his blood bubble at the tone. It was Lance that riled the dormant, if always present, temper in him. Maybe all that training together had burrowed under his skin too deep.

Possibly, because Lance’s eyes raked over him quickly, assessing his change in body posture. He uncrossed his arms and said, “Hey, you’re forgetting who’s in charge around here now.”

“The hell are you talking about?”

Lance looked far too content about pointing to himself, saying, “I’m the one who is looking after you. That means I get to decide what’s best and what’s not. And going deep in what might as well be a jungle is _not_.”

“What? You’re crazy.”

“Oh, _I’m_ crazy? You’re the one who might have a concussion!”

Keith opened his mouth for a rebuttal, when something rumbled far from a distance. They clamped up instantly, alert as the sound vibrated through the air. Keith couldn’t make out in which direction it came from.

“The hell was that?” Lance’s eyes darted everywhere.

“I don’t know,” Keith said. Swallowing, Keith’s eyes surveyed the area for signs of a disturbance. He waited until the sound petered out. “Whatever it was, it sounded mad.”

They caught each other’s eye again. Held it. Somehow, Keith’s anger diluted down to a slight annoyance.

“Look,” he sighed, “we should at least look around.” Then, reluctant, he added, “If we don’t see signs of civilization close by, we’ll wait here. Okay? We’ll need supplies anyway. Some food. Water, if they have it.”

Lance eyed him up and down. At first, Keith thought he would shut down the compromise, but he was surprised when the Blue Paladin gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Alright, fine. But we don’t split up.”

“Fine.”

“ _Fine_.”

With a final look at each other, they ventured onward.

Several hundreds of ticks later, they stumbled out of a brush, breathless.

“Lance! This isn’t where we came from.”

“What? No way. I marked that tree-thing back there! This has to be the way back.”

“You got us _lost_.”

“You’re the one who said you knew how to track!”

“I _was_ tracking those footprints! Then they just...disappeared.”

Lance buried his face in one hand. “I can’t believe I let you lead me after some animal.”

“It could have shown us the way to water. And _you’re_ the one that left those markings and look what they did!”

“Hey! I swear I had marked it right.”

“Then why are we lost?”

They held a glare, and might have gone all night were it not just for that. The darkness of the skies had not ebbed, and they had no sign of which way to go. Keith barely heard the sounds of their own labored breathing under the sounds around them. Buzzing and hums, purrs and chatters. Like echoes from somewhere deep in the wild that Keith’s naked eye could not pick out.

It all prompted him to take his irritation down a notch (a Herculean feat when it came to Lance). He breathed deeply. “We should keep looking.”

Lance caught his arm before he turned completely. “Nuh-uh. We tried the whole looking thing you wanted.” He tightened his hold at Keith’s frown .”We’ve been at it for hours. We need food, and shelter at this point. If we go any longer, we might run ourselves ragged and then what will happen with the mission?”

Keith relaxed under the grip. He considered their objective, and how it wasn’t the most comfortable to be combing foreign territory in luxurious fabrics. They were thick, but not so thick he couldn’t feel the pressure of Lance’s palm easily.

When the pressure lessened, Keith turned away.

“Hey! Where are you going?” asked Lance.

“To find something to make a fire,” Keith said.

Lance didn’t argue. For once.

Nerves on edge, they navigated into the throng of foliage that could almost convince Keith he was on Earth. Vines, sapphire in color and dotted with spores, twisted out of the ground and looped around more vines to form mighty stalks thicker than Keith’s arm span. Their branches tangled high into others, the trees so numerous that Keith couldn’t turn anywhere without seeing hoards of them.

Each time something rustled, Keith turned toward it. He could swear the trees and their vines were making noise. At least they hadn’t heard that monstrous sound again.

Nearby, Keith could hear Lance muttering: “Okay. Yeah. We’re lost. We’re lost on a weird planet with no communication to our team. Okay, that’s fine. We’re paladins. We can survive a little wilderness. It’s just like camping...”

Keith stood from his foraging, and stepped on something that squealed and was definitely not a patch of grass. He jerked back, registering a quick grab of his arm, as a school of critters that resembled fish scattered around him.

“Whoa.” It was Lance that had steadied him. Keith was very aware that was twice within several ticks that Lance had grabbed hold of him.

Above them, the branches trembled as the fish-things snuck into the pockets between them for refuge. One lagged behind, fluttering past Lance’s cheek, making him jump. But when it proved harmless, Lance chuckled, and it wasn’t a bad sound.

“They’re kind of cute when you realize they’re not going to kill you,” Lance said.

“I guess.” Keith rather thought he should have caught one. Maybe they could have cooked it.

Lance looked down, as if now remembering he still held Keith’s arm. He jerked his hand back. “Um...let’s hurry up with that fire.”

Keith rubbed the spot. He continued scavenging.

Eventually they settled in an alcove born out of a massive root of vines. Keith managed a fire (he got fed up quickly when Lance wanted to try--and failed), and they huddled close as the thrum of their temporary habitat quieted down around the crackle of their fire.

“So,” Lance said, “find anything good?”

Keith showed the staff he found. It was maybe half his height, and had the makings of becoming a weapon with the right rocks to grind the edge down.

Lance looked unimpressed. “Oooh. A stick. We’re saved.”

Keith snorted, and went about sharpening it. He had an above-average competence for tracking and optimizing resources. Out here though, the former was about as useful as Lance’s skillset. The garrison instilled the basics of survival for crash-landing scenarios, but there was only so much a foundation could be made of when there were so many planets with so many ecosystems.

“Whatever. I should have let Coran let me keep my knife,” Keith said.

Lance made a frustrated noise and popped a few berries they’d foraged.  When Lance had doubted their safety at first, Keith had straight up eaten a few. It had been kind of funny the way Lance’s face had gone gray and the sound he made, as if he’d expected Keith to die right there from poisoned food.

“Yeah, well, he’s probably freaking out now.” Lance studied a berry. “I bet Allura’s crying over me though.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “They probably don't even know we crashed yet. Or they might be busy getting shot at like us before they can cry over you.”

“...You think that’ll happen?”

Keith paused. “...I don’t know.”

“Seems to be the general idea about now.” Lance stretched out his legs, mindful of the fire. “It’s so quiet up there now though.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t even hear ships.”

Keith didn’t hear them either. It all agitated him, the feeling creeping under his skin, digging into his gut and making all the warning bells go off in his head. Yet, for all the uncertainties, it was peaceful around them. And Keith didn’t know why, but Lance’s presence next to him stabilized the worst of the edginess.

“Hunk would have liked it here,” Lance said. “If only for the fruit.”

Keith glanced at Lance, found him gazing upward at the streaks of sky they could see between the foliage. He lowered his gaze back to his near-weapon, silent for a while.

“Pidge would have liked picking up frequencies here I bet,” Keith said, missing what would have been a snarky remark about now in his ear from Pidge.

“Yeah.” Lance chuckled faintly. “Hey, remember that time Pidge picked up suspicious activity and it turned out to be those aliens having sex on that cargo ship?”

Keith’s lip twitched. “Shiro thought Pidge had broadcasted it inside the castle on purpose.”

They broke into a grin, and then they were laughing at the memory. It did something good to let all that breath out. When the laugh narrowed down to a deep breath, Keith felt a little less tense.

Then, Lance said, “They’ll be okay. Right?”

“Yeah. They will. So will we.” Keith realized he was watching a lot of Lance’s profile now. The light of the fire cast shadows that hit Lance’s face at nice angles. “We’re a good team after all.”

Lance tilted his head, catching his eyes. Keith thought they were suddenly closer than they were moments ago. He couldn’t remember when he’d stop sharpening the stick either.

It was probably the way the firelight danced off Lance’s face, but his eyes looked soft. And his smile was warm, not like the sharp tilt of his smirks or wide in a stupid grin. Keith caught himself smiling back.

Lance squinted. “Did Coran do something to your eyes?”

“My eyes?”

“They look...different. More like the alien’s.”

Keith stayed still, hooked on the way Lance stared into his eyes. The last time Lance held his gaze this intensely was during an argument where Lance threatened to shove him in a wormhole. Keith didn’t feel anything hostile now.

“The aliens’ eyes look kind of human to me,” Keith said. “Maybe...bigger pupils at most? But Coran didn't do anything to them.” At least, not while Keith was conscious.

Lance blinked slowly. “Oh…” He glanced away.

It provided Keith a good view at Lance’s face again, better than in the ship that had dim lighting. He could see the details on under Lance’s eyes, far more subtle than the application Coran had been meticulous about on Keith’s skin.

“He did want to,” Keith said with a shrug, “do more. He tried to stick a some little tail on me and put these gill-looking things on. It’s not like they’re going to make us strip and he’d already done my back by then so--”

“Wait, hold up. Your back?”

Keith nodded. “Didn’t he do yours too?”

“Uh, no.” Lance’s eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean?”

He was starting to grin, and Keith felt a little heat rush to his face. “The...pattern,” he said, pointing to his face, “it goes down their spines. Then when he wanted to do more, I got Shiro to convince him it wasn’t necessary...”

Lance’s eyes dropped down, like maybe he was trying to imagine it. Keith narrowed his eyes, unsure what to make of his face.

“He, uh, he actually,” Lance’s words trailed off, then dissolved into laughter. The sound chased a tickle down Keith’s stomach, and he couldn’t help his own little laugh, even if he was annoyed it was due to his own expense. But he’d agreed to this role.

“He tried to get a wig on me too,” Keith said, and Lance laughed more. “It was just, like, pieces of hair. Not even a wig.”

“Extensions.”

“What?”

Lance’s laugh softened. He gestured with his hand toward his head. “They were probably extensions.”

“Oh.”

“My oldest sister use to wear them,” Lance said with a shrug.

Keith watched the way Lance’s face relaxed. It was unlike the sudden spark of energy that had him flustered over whatever pretty alien made his world that day. Keith thought he looked better this way.

Overall, Keith figured, it wasn’t the worst situation right now if they could manage a laugh. He should be sharpening the stalk, but his attention gravitated toward Lance each time he tried.

Lance’s hand came to view. Berries, succulent and bright, sat offered on his palm. At first, Keith hesitated, then plucked one.

“Yeah,” Lance said after they chewed in silence, “you should have gone with the extensions.”

Keith snorted, but didn’t feel so annoyed anymore. They were close enough that their arms could brush, and Keith didn’t mind. He didn’t think he would have noticed something like that before, and less would have paid attention to the way his fingertips brushed against Lance’s palm when more berries were offered.

He thought he saw Lance’s fingers jerk at the contact.

Keith raised his gaze, and found Lance looking back with wide eyes. Like he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be. But Keith didn't get the chance to wonder about that.

A howl broke through the forest.

The branches shivered as creatures fled, and the ground quivered in the distance under the power of something fierce. Keith shot up to his feet. Lance did the same.

“That sounded like,” Lance didn’t have to finish.

Keith strained his senses. “Maybe it’s going another way…”

The next sounds they heard were not from the thing, but screams.

Keith reacted on instinct: he bolted in the direction of the distress. A small, but ever alert part of him knew Lance had reacted the same way, and it was the matter of a breath's span Lance outmatched his pace.

The screams came again, little wails that urged Keith to sprint faster. He cursed the damn clothing and knew he was losing ground without proper support for his feet. But they navigated by the sounds, crossing over roots and through shrubs until they finally crashed through a clearing.

Keith’s muscles went taut as the tail of something whipped past his face. The animal rushed past them, waist-heigh, long as a wild cat, and twice as vicious. Its sounds up close were all hisses and snarls, and Keith barely registered two young aliens scrambling away from it. Natives? They screamed again as the predator dived for them.

Keith chased after the beast, scooping up rocks and chucking them before he realized what he was doing. More rocks rained down when Lance joined in, hooting and making all kinds of noises to gain its attention. And it worked; the animal whirled around, and a well-aimed rock from Lance bounced right off its snout. Keith hissed at the way its eyes brighten.

“Run!” Lance was shouting at the younglings. Keith couldn’t even look to see if they did as told. He didn’t let his eyes stray off the thing they’d just confronted and thoroughly pissed off. He squeezed his hand around the sharp staff, finding comfort in its potential.

“Oh, it does not look happy,” Lance said. 

“You think?” Keith stepped back slowly, observing the way the creature prowled.

“Please tell me you’re not going to fight it with that stick.”

“Better than rocks,” Keith whispered back. He tensed, sensing the pounce. Then, when it came, he shoved Lance aside and struck.

The maw clamped down on the end. Keith jerked his arm with the momentum and let his leg swing around. The blow had the creature stagger. Keith’s blood sang with the adrenaline, and he chuckled at the successful hit. The animal was a lot lighter than he anticipated.

“Keith...!”

Keith registered Lance’s words, spared him a glance, then at where the Blue Paladin was looking. There was little remaining of the tip of Keith’s weapon. The saliva had burned through the material, tendrils of smoke curling off the ends.

“Okay," Keith said. "Plan B."

“And that’s…?”

Keith waited for another lunge at them. Following his instinct, he crashed the staff into the animal’s face, snatched Lance’s wrist, and spun them around the opposite way.

“ _Run!_ ”

They tore through the forest, but every weave and obstacle expended energy they couldn't spare.

"You know," Lance yelled, "I'm starting to sense a pattern lately of 'nice and peaceful' followed by 'absolute terror'!"

The creature hounded after them with a speed that would soon overpower Keith’s. He could feel its fury like heat on his back.

Lance must have felt it too. Breathless, he called out Keith’s name, and pointed. Keith dared a look up, and would later be surprised he understood. When Lance screeched to a halt and laced his fingers, Keith picked up his speed. He jumped off the finger-boost, hauled up onto a branch.

“Pull me up, pull me up!”

Keith dangled down far enough to snatch Lance’s waiting hands, utilizing every scrap of energy to pull him up fast enough just before the beast took out his legs. They clung to the branches, pushing against each other to stay balance, and breathed.

The animal scurried to a stop. Its wide head jerked up as it sought out its prey.

Keith took in deep gulps of air. Down below, he finally took note of the tracks the animal left. They were too familiar.

The beast's eyes shifted to the trunk of a tree.

“Keith…” Lance sounded even more out of breath than he did.

“Yeah?”

“Remember how you lost sight of those tracks before?”

Realization hit Keith right in his stomach. In a heartbeat, they were grabbing at each other, scrambling along the branches just before the damn animal from the depths of hell began its climb.

“This wasn't in Coran's lessons!”

“We can’t outrun it,” Keith said. “And it’s got...acid saliva or something.”

"What else can it do?  _Fly_? And did you see its tail? That’s definitely poisonous!”

“Shut up and look around. There’s gotta be something...”

Lance used Keith to steady himself on his feet, having just that extra stretch of height to prove useful now. Keith could hear his head poking up through foliage. Meanwhile Keith kept his own focus on the creature as it reached their level. It snarled.

“Lance! A little hustle!”

“There!”

Keith yanked him down and began maneuvering across the knot of vines toward the direction Lance pointed.

“What did you see?” he asked. The scratch of the beast's claws sounded closer.

“I actually have an idea.”

Lance leapt down suddenly, and Keith could only follow. He rolled to a soft landing and rushed after Lance, listening to the creature continue its chase a few more meters above them before it jumped down.

Keith yelped when Lance grabbed his wrist and jerked him this direction, then that.

“Okay, so,” Lance was trying to talk as he ran with death at his heels, “dangerous idea is kind of dangerous.”

“Sounds about right,” Keith panted. But he could hear something now, just under the roar of his slamming heart or the howl of the animal behind them. It sounded like the promise of water. A lot of it.  Ahead of them, he detected an opening in the forest that spilled out to nowhere.

It clicked in his mind. A waterfall.

But it hardly mattered. The crash of the water paled under the screech of the animal as it closed the gap. Keith felt his body prepare to take on the inevitable, when a hand pushed into his chest. It happened so fast that it felt slow, a suspension of limbo of feeling, then seeing Lance’s hand pushing him out of the way.

Keith crashed into the ground, rolling for what felt like forever. His senses spun as he jerked his head up. The injury from the crash-landing throbbed. Somewhere ahead, Lance cried out. Keith staggered out of the safety of the bushes, eyes darting around.

“Lance!”

He saw the moment Lance snagged onto a low enough vine, saw him ride the power of his leap. The animal jumped too, but its speed was the very thing that pushed it too far too much, and when its tail clipped Lance, it had no ground to catch it. Keith heard its roar as it fell.

Keith hurried over, stumbling to a stop at the precipice. What looked like water gushed from the west, its mist sprinkling up toward them. Wherever the beast plummeted into, it was washed away.

Above him, Lance laughed. 

Keith jerked his head up in time for Lance to lower himself down on shaky legs. Too shaky. He slipped and Keith’s heart felt like it would burst out. He shot his arm out and tugged Lance away from the edge before he tripped off it.

“Are you crazy?!” Keith kept a tight grip on the fabric of Lance’s tunic.

Lance tensed, then shoved him off. “Hey, what's your problem? How about a thank you for outsmarting that monster?”

“You could have actually died!” Keith couldn’t even count how many things could have gone wrong there. He’d never been one to rely on luck, but he couldn’t explain how Lance was still standing after that without it. In one piece at that.

Lance blinked rapidly, then his eyes bulged. “Yeah, I guess,” he said, and Keith couldn’t believe he’d heard correctly. There was that laugh again, but it sounded like Lance was forcing it. “Got you out of the way, at least. Am I the best escort or what?”

“You shouldn’t have done that! You could-” Keith’s anger wavered. He saw the drops of blood dotting the ground.

Lance followed his gaze, then hissed. He glanced at the back of his leg and then scratched at his back. The move made him stagger. “Whoa.”

Keith seized his arms, grunting when Lance’s knees buckled. “Lance! What’s wrong?”

“I just,” Lance’s breathing sounded wrong. Ragged, strained, and not from avoiding death. “Just a minute. Pulling cool moves like that takes a small toll, you know?”

Keith lowered down to support Lance’s shift in weight. His head was bobbing, as though he’d fall asleep any moment. Their positions allowed Keith a view of Lance’s back. He gritted his teeth. The tail.

Keith's heart dropped.

“We need to get you patched up,” he said. "Now."

“Just...a head wound?”

Keith wanted to smile at that. He gripped Lance closer, debating the best coarse of action. If it were Keith alone, he could manage. Now, he felt a mess of pulls on his gut, and none were giving him the assurance that he could help Lance.

Lance swayed in his arms.

“H-Hey, Lance! Don't-” Keith froze. Lance’s forehead felt clammy under his chin. He leaned back, pressing the back of his hand to Lance’s face. The flush high on his cheekbones was not the right coloring either.

“Is it me, or is everything all...spinny....” It was barely coherent, and Lance was becoming greater deadweight with each heartbeat.

Keith hoisted them to their feet, looping Lance’s arm around his shoulder. He couldn’t touch Lance’s back, so he opted to hold his hips. “Come on,” he said. “We’re finding a way out of here.”

Lance mumbled something about pretty spine designs or something that sounded like it.

With each step, the difficulty of maneuvering both of them taxed all of Keith’s reserves. Lance's lucidity was dropping fast, his body weighing down heavier and testing Keith’s muscle. Keith felt the pulse of his own heart like a knife in his temple.

Keith pressed on, refusing to drop Lance. There had been aliens here. Keith hadn't gotten a good look at them, but their presence meant more were somewhere, nearby. He had to find them. Would find them.

“Lance, stay awake, come on,” he would say. He’d try to jog Lance’s memory with stories, ask him questions (who’s a better pilot, me or you? remember that alien with the pretty pink eyes?), anything to drag Lance from the threat of passing out. But Keith was running out of questions, and Lance was getting quieter, and his skin felt hotter, his breathing broken.

And Keith didn’t know where he was going. The trees were indifferent to his struggles, the critters making all sorts of noises that threw him off. And he felt their eyes on them, always watching.

By the time Keith realized something wasn’t just watching them, but following and about to strike, he was too compromised.

In the end, Keith hadn't been wrong. Things could have been worse, and then they were:

He blacked out before either of them hit the ground.

 

**-X-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for making to the end of chapter 2.
> 
> I hope the shift in POV isn't jarring, but I don't think the story is well told with just Lance's POV. Keith is also his own kind of difficult to write, but still fun, so I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> Thank you so much for the feedback already received, and for humoring any tropes thrown in!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, thanks so much. I didn’t think this story would really get responses when I first posted it (happy sniff).

 

 Lance dreamt of his family.

Their faces rushed at him like phantoms. Familiar, warm and happy faces distorted by grief, and then twisted in anguish as Zarkon burned the Earth down to its very core. Lance wasn’t dreaming at all. He was falling deep into the pits of nightmares.

Each time he was startled out of the horror, a hand was on his head, on his arm, squeezing his fingers. He’d see the real world blotted with the visions of his mom, and just as he would see dark eyes that weren’t hers, he’d slip back out of reality.

When he came to, it was gradual. His family’s sobs and screams echoed in his mind until the beat of his heart thinned them out. The thud of his head swelled, and with it all the aches of his limbs once he remembered he had them.

Lance groaned. It didn’t make him feel much better.

Like a night out too late, he regrouped internally, picking through his memory. The mission. Crash. Keith’s eyes (unnecessary data, but it was there). Berries. The animal.

Lance took in a sharp breath. The pain of the tail scraping down his back, cutting up his leg, all hit him like he was reliving it. But as he prepared to feel his injuries, the sting wasn’t there. In fact, he realized the pressure of lying down was all on his front. His back and leg were dull aches.

And a little chilly.

Lance lifted his arm to find out why. Tried to, anyway, and found it strapped down. Eyes snapping open, Lance found the world at a tilt. Panic clogged his throat and rushed into his arms where he thrashed against whatever was keeping them down.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay..”

There was a pressure on Lance’s forearm. The adrenaline chased off the worst of the fogginess in his head enough to register it was a hand. Keith’s hand. Keith’s voice. It sounded tired.

“K...Keith…?” It didn’t sound like Lance’s voice. Lance grimaced at how groggy it came out, and tried to focus as Keith’s face came into view.

Keith’s eyes weren’t as hard as they usually were. They glanced behind at something, then settled back on Lance. “Yeah,” he whispered. “It’s me. You’re safe.”

Safe. Lance never quite thought they were safe anymore, but he could almost believe it the way Keith had said it. It meant he could worry less about imminent danger, and let his mind catch up. When he tried to raise his hand to his head, he remembered what had started the panic.

“W-Wha…I’m tied?”

“You were thrashing a lot,” Keith said. “In order to keep you on your front--hey, don’t try to lift your head so fast--”

“Why am I _naked_?!”

“Calm down--”

“Don’t tell me to _calm_ down,” Lance knew he was sounding shrill, but didn’t care, “ _you_ try waking up tied and naked--”

“It was my idea.” It wasn’t Keith’s voice, and Lance clammed right the hell up. The return of adrenaline gave him the chance to pick up details, like the soft body of intertwined stalk and leaves that made for his plush bed. Then, the newcomer that was making its presence known in the corner of Lance’s vision.

It was big, with slit eyes and ears atop its head that looked familiar. It took Lance several heartbeats to recognize it as an adult version of those alien kids they’d saved.

“The fevers made you thrash,” the alien said, voice low and reminding Lance of a purr.“It was a precaution. Apologies.” It came closer, and Lance felt his nerves fraying.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what’s he--”

“It’s okay,” Keith said, squeezing his arm. “He’s checking your injuries. He’s...like a doctor around here.”

Lance tensed up as he felt himself prodded and inspected. Now he could feel the texture of the bandages around his calf and back. There was some kind of blanket on his ass that was hardly a blanket (it served the same role as a loincloth). It didn’t make him feel any better knowing it was there.

“Um...Where _is_ here?” Lance asked in a hiss.

“Does it hurt?” the alien asked. “The worst has passed and your body is recovering well, but you will need sustenance.”

Lance licked his lips. “No...it doesn’t hurt. Er...can...I have my arms back?”

Keith made an ‘oh’ sound, as if forgetting Lance was tied. His hands went to work to free Lance’s arms, and Lance almost swore he felt a gentle rub to his wrists along the process. Must be the wooziness.

“I will allow you some privacy,” the alien said. “I will return shortly with food and drink. Please proceed slowly.”

Lance waited until it had ducked under foliage that hung down from the hut’s entryway. He let out a shaky breath and dared to prop up onto one elbow.

“Careful,” Keith said. “You were out for a while.”

Lance moaned as the world tried to re-adjust to its normal tilt. His head wanted to crash back down. Though he wasn’t in agony, everything was kind of throbbing.

_At least I’m not dead. That’s a plus. A big one._

Managing onto his side, Lance held still as the alien returned with two bowls. Keith accepted them, and Lance blew out a long breath when it politely left them alone again. He affixed the pitiful blanket around him more securely.

“Do you,” Keith hesitated with one bowl, “feel like you can sit up?”

Lance convinced himself he could, until he tried, and got hit with a rush of dizziness. He pinched his eyes shut, feeling his stomach churning, his heart thumping, blood roaring. There was that hand on him again, and Keith’s voice.

“I shouldn’t have asked that. He said you would be really weak waking up,” Keith said.

Lance wanted to curl into himself, but felt the uncomfortable pull on his sore back when he did. He ached for his mom, who always knew how to tend to him even when he didn’t think he needed tending. He wanted to be at the pizza shack by the beach and not fighting the urge to throw up his entire stomach because there was nothing in it.

He couldn’t really remember missing home as much as he did right then.

There was a noise from Keith that would have been awkward if Lance was coherent enough to pick up on it. “Take a deep breath,” Keith was saying, and then his hand crept up Lance’s arm. “Deep breaths...”

It was like a crappy mantra, but Lance’s body fell in tune with the instructions. Lance took easy, even breaths in, and blew them out just as slowly. When he felt he could, Lance cracked an eye open. Keith was sitting on the edge of the bed, and the world behind him wasn’t spinning.

There were lines around Keith’s eyes and his brows were knitted together.

“Yeah,” Lance panted, “you definitely should have gone with the extensions.”

He had the privilege of seeing Keith’s eyes widen. Then there was this twitch to one side of his mouth that withered before Lance got to really look at it. Keith opened his mouth, but nothing came out right away.

“You should try to eat a little,” Keith finally said.  “It’ll help.”

Lance looked at one of the bowls. Whatever soft, purple mush was in it smelled faintly sweet. It looked better than goo by a long enough shot to instill an appetite.

“You tried it?” Lance asked.

“I liked it,” Keith said. Then again, multiple occasions had found Keith chowing down anything mindlessly so long as it recharged his energy. “It’s not Hunk’s specialties but it’s light on the stomach for you.”

Lance could use light on the stomach. Convinced, he reached for the utensil, arm feeling twice as heavy than he remembered. His hand quivered too much to even grab hold of the utensil. He grit his teeth as he made another attempt. It didn’t succeed. There was now a small splatter of purple mush on the bed.

“Okay, stop that,” Keith said, confiscating the utensil.

“Hey, give that back!”

“Look, just…”

“What?”

Keith held up the spoon.”Let me do it.”

Lance’s eyes went big. “Hell no.”

“What?”

“No way.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s lame! I’m not having _you_ of all people feed me.”

“So it’s a problem with me.”

“No, it’s--”

“You’re acting like a brat.”

“You’re…! Oh,” Lance shut his eyes again, moaning at the return of the dizziness.

“See, you can’t even sit up.” A pause. “Are you okay?” Keith asked. Lance hated how concerned it sounded.

“Oh, yeah, just fine here,” Lance managed to say,“Only woke up naked and bound, and not in the sexy way either.”

Sure, Lance had his share of a fantasy or two that involved a bed and maybe some fine silk ribbons, but this was far from working him up in the right kind of ways. Plus, the last time he’d been tied to something, it had been a tree, and he’d lost Blue.

“You need to eat,” Keith said.

As if Lance of all people was the least aware of that. The sickness finally ebbed enough for him to groan and scrub his face. He peeked at Keith through two fingers. “If you spill _any_ of that on me-”

“I’m not going to.”

“--Or _tell_ anyone--”

Keith jabbed a spoonful of mush his way. “Will you just open up?”

Lance did, but certainly not because Keith demanded it. He decided he could later mourn over the fact that this was the first time someone other than a family member was serving him personally. Worse, it wasn’t at the hands of some gorgeous babe. Well, Keith technically qualified as a pretty boy (plenty of others said as much), and maybe the new clothes helped bring out nicer angles and curves that--Nope. Lance shut down that trail of thinking.

Better yet. Just pretend this whole thing didn’t count and wipe the slate clean.

He chewed the food and focused more on its taste than the way Keith observed him, or how much closer he’d sat. After Lance swallowed, he felt a little life pulse through him again. His eyes brightened and he accepted another spoonful.

“This is amazing. What is this stuff?” he asked. “Actually, maybe I don’t want to know.”

He opened his mouth again, grateful that his hunger eclipsed what was an otherwise ridiculous and mortifying situation. Though, it did kind of had the potential to be good, in the way that Lance had earned a little pampering like this (and _not_ because it was Keith doing it).

It must have been the bandages strapped around his chest that gave him a flittering sensation inside his chest. To be safe, he made a point not to make direct eye contact with Keith when he accepted another mouthful or took a sip of water from the other.

Several times he had to wave Keith to stop as his stomach adjusted, or when the dizziness crept back in and he had to lie back down fully. Keith waited with patience that must have been counterintuitive to his temperamental nature. Hopefully it wasn’t shaving days off his lifespan.

Lance didn’t really know what to make of that. In his defense, he didn’t really know a lot that was going on right now.

“You’re being really quiet,” Lance said after the last swallow. Whatever was in this stuff was working magic on his energy. “It’s creeping me out.”

Keith lifted his head like he’d been lost in thought. “Huh? Oh. It’s...nothing.” Keith lowered the bowl into his lap. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Lance grunted as he maneuvered into a sitting position while very, _very_ carefully keeping the blanket around his hips,

It granted a better view of the little home they were in, hardly furnished but cozy, and not really what Lance expected from a planet of advanced civilizations. Nor was it the backdrop that matched the initial panic Lance woke with. He could still feel the threat of the nightmares like it was just a breath away.

Keith was staring at him.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Lance said. Keith tilted his head in response, and his hair swept down in a way that had Lance notice something. “What’s wrong with your head?”

Keith blinked, glancing up like he could see the bandage. “Oh. It’s nothing.”

“Did you hit your head again?”

“It was hit.”

Like that made a difference. Lance watched Keith’s gaze flick down to his chest. He followed it, taking in the view of the bandages looped around his chest. A little further down was his stomach, and the hint of his navel peeking out from the blanket.

Lance felt blood flooding into his face. He gripped the blanket harder. It wasn’t like he never took showers in a locker room, and the garrison had been no exception. So why did Lance feel like his heart was getting stuck in his throat and his stomach, previously content with purple mush, now felt like a nest full of snakes lived there.

He tried not to revisit the reality that he’d been like this the entire time Keith fed him. It shouldn’t have held any weight to start with, let alone feel like it was pressing down into his chest.

Lance swallowed his heart back down. “So, uh, how bad in shape are my clothes?”

Keith’s eyes jumped back up. “What did you say?”

Lance gestured to the blanket. “Clothes? Like, now would be great.”

“Oh. Right.” Keith finally left his side, and Lance felt like he could take in a deep breath. Deep breaths were good. He didn’t need to think about how much Keith saw him naked. He needed to regain his wits. He could do that. He was the Blue Paladin. They still had a mission to do.

But first, clothes.

Keith pulled them out of some storage, setting it down on the bed.

“They cleaned our clothes and they patched yours up.”

Lance lifted his pants and smoothed his hands over the dark fabric. He ran his fingers down each pucker of the stitches, getting a feel for how big the cut on his leg had been, and how very much alive he was. Now it was just a matter of calculating how to slip them on without the blanket falling off him.

“They,” Lance repeated.

Keith crossed his arms, keeping a good few feet away. “Yeah. It’s a small village out in here in the wild. Apparently there are others throughout.”

“I don’t recall Coran or Allura mentioning anything about villages.”

“Me neither.”

“Man, sounds like I have a lot of catching up to do.”

Lance just wanted his clothes on first before tackling anything else first. He scooted to the edge of the bed, finding its width big enough for two bodies. He swung his bad leg, testing it before he began to slip it into a pants leg.

Lance was exceptionally aware of Keith’s eyes on him. They felt warm on his skin, somehow more so than when the alien had been touching him.

“Alright,” Lance said, triumphant he’d wiggled into his pants without exposing himself. Now he could push off slowly and see how much of his weight could be held once standing.

The instant he straightened, the wooziness swept away his coordination. He hissed and stumbled, arm flailing out to balance himself. A hand caught his arm, and another, incredibly hot, held his waist.

“I _told_ you to be careful,” Keith was saying. “You can’t just get up like that!”

Lance was feeling like they’d been in this position before, only this time he was lucid enough to feel the pressure of each of Keith’s fingers on him. The blood that had rushed out of his head was flooding back up.

“What are you doing? I’m fine! Let go.”

Keith’s eyes widened when Lance jerked back. Keith’s bare hands chased him, steadying him again. “Stop that!”

“Stop _what_!”

“You’re being a baby!”

“Hey! It’s been a rough morning-or...whatever time of day it is! So why don’t _you_ st--”

“Don’t you get it?” Keith’s face was precariously close now, grip tightening for the span of a blink before it softened. Lance hadn’t ever seen Keith’s face quite like that. Not directed at him, anyway.

Lance stared as Keith lowered his head, looked to the side, then down at the floor.

“You were sick, Lance.”

Lance blinked. “Huh...yeah. I kind of figured.”

Gradually, Keith’s gaze found his. “No. Like, really...really sick.”

It was something Lance couldn’t find words for. With only the ghosts of his nightmares and some aches to vouch for how sick he’d fallen, he absorbed Keith’s expression. Not really by choice.

Had Keith been worried? Lance couldn’t bring to admit that was a truth. Concern from others--it always twisted everything inside him, threw the potential for any good mood out the window. Coming from Keith, it threw Lance’s entire universe off a good few degrees.

His tongue felt dry.

“Hey,” Lance said, swallowing again, “it’s no cryopod, but I’m good.”

Keith’s mouth made a tight line.

Lance forced himself to scoff and look away. It felt ineffective when he was leaning on Keith’s body for support. “I mean, think about it. With all the nasty baddies we fight, it’d be lame if I got taken out by some animal, right?”

There we go. That sounded more like himself, and he was grateful his tongue didn’t accidentally slip out that if he let the panic settle in again, he might not get out of it. 

“Plus,” he added, smirking Keith’s way, “Scars are hot. Sounds like I’ll have a couple of nice ones.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Keith said, finally sounding a little more like himself.

“I think you said ‘awesome’ wrong.”

Keith gave a tiny smile, but Lance didn’t think it was a response to his comment. It had been several ticks of them like this, body against body, and the initial shock of it was receding down into dangerous territory. Lance was starting to feel comfortable. Daresay, at ease.

He cleared his throat. “So, uh...I guess I could use a tiny help grabbing that.”

He pointed to the rest of his outfit. Keith nodded, and they navigated around to get Lance into the rest of his outfit. Luckily, it was less Keith touching him and instead watching him for unstable movements. Lance’s body had always bounced back quick (you kind of had to when you grew up with so many siblings), and he was strolling around to test the pull of his injuries without a hitch.

“Hey, not bad,” he said, a congratulations to himself. He gave a little stretch, moaning at the sensation. He grinned over at Keith. “Whatever that doctor-alien did, it’s working. I’m ready to kick Galra butt as my old self. Er, I mean, escorting.”

“Is your old self exactly a good thing?” Keith asked. He’d been ogling Lance still, but with a little less intensity at least.

“It’s a very, very good thing,” Lance said. Their eyes locked again as the silence filled the space between them.  Now Lance could take in Keith better. His clothed looked spotless, and his hair a little back in place from the last memory Lance had of him. The aliens must have cleaned him up, but there was a weariness under his eyes like he hadn't slept. Then, a memory, embarrassingly, flashed in Lance’s mind. The one where he’d been staring into Keith’s eyes by the light of the fire, thinking them beautiful for a split, stupid second.

A big, stupid second.

“Anyway,” Lance turned away and played with his hair. “I could do with a mirror though. We’re in some village and that means there must be cuties out there. Did that doctor guy have some kind of cute assistant that stripped me naked by any chance? I’d be down with that.”

“That was your _mela lle_.”

Lance yelped at the intrusion, louder than he intended (which was none at all). Aches be damn, he whirled around to find the alien from before coming in.

“Jeez, don’t you guys knock?”

“On what, genius?” Keith said.

Lance brushed Keith’s comment off with a flick of his hand. He straightened as the alien came closer. It was a good two feet taller than Lance, which allowed for easy inspection. “What did you say?” Lance asked. “My what?”

The alien, without breaking from its examination, pointed a sharp finger toward Keith.

Oh.

Wait.

Lance pieced the information into a very vivid image that did not want to shake loose. Rather, it burrowed deep into the deepest corner of Lance’s mind and branded him with the imagery of Keith’s fingers undoing his clothing, sliding it off his skin.

Lance wasn’t sure if all the blood had drained out of him or had all gone to his head. When he looked over(why, _why_ did he look over?), Keith’s eyes were bigger than typical and Lance didn’t remember the highlights of his cheeks being pink. His expression, however, might as well have been code.

The alien was saying something. Lance blinked rapidly and sucked in a deep breath, breaking eye contact. “Sorry, what?”

“I was saying it would be wise to change your bandages daily,” the alien said.

“Oh. Uh. Yeah, no problem.” Lance’s brain, unable to process the whole Keith-stripped-him-naked thing, skipped right over it to be revisited at a time that was probably going to be inconvenient. “I’ll do that...er, what’s your name again?”

“Ulsfrodikari-rar.”

“Right. Okay, would you hate it if I called you ‘Rodi’, for short?”

“I do not mind.”

“Great.” Lance smiled. It wasn’t much, but he offered his hand. “Then it’s a pleasure, Rodi. I'm Lance." He supposed keeping his own name for this mission had its perks.

The alien studied his hand, one ear twitching.

“Here, give me your hand.” Rodi complied. Lance pressed it firmly against his own. For something so big, it was more docile than a sheep. “It’s how we say ‘nice to meet you’ and one way to say ‘thanks’. You did save my life.”

“Oh.” Rodi smiled a long smile. It returned the pressure. “Then I apologize again before thanking you. We took you and His Eminence prisoners thinking you came as Galra to take the lands for yourself.”

Okay. That explained the Keith’s head being hit part.

"You don't need to call me that," Keith threw in.

Lance chimed in first, asking, “You thought we were Galra? Really?”

“Admittedly, we’ve only heard tales, terrible tales, of them. We’ve never seen one before. We mistook you as hostile.” Rodi’s ears flattened for a moment.  “That was until we learned it was you that saved two of our offspring and contacted the troopers. We are ashamed for treating someone of high caliber with such disrespect."

Keith shrugged both shoulders, as if he'd given up trying to tell Rodi otherwise. Lance kind of wished he'd been there for that conversation.

"However," Rodi said, "We still owe you great thanks for saving two of our own.”

Lance felt the sincerity of his gratitude as much as he felt it in the way Rodi squeezed his hand. “Oh, uh, don’t mention it."

Rodi hesitated. “Then, until the troopers come for you, we welcome you. The village talks much about you. So perhaps, if you feel inclined you will come meet them all?”

Troopers sounded promising. With a handful of questions yet to be filed as answered, Lance thought Rodi’s question trumped them all about now. Lance’s whole body was already angling toward the doorway.

“Are you kidding?” He grinned. After the recent events, Lance could do with some friendly faces. “Heck yeah.”

Rodi gestured, and Lance accepted the invitation to step outside. Keith was a few steps behind.

Lance ducked under the plants and was re-acquainted with the evening light that radiated off this planet. The perpetual coolness of the atmosphere refreshed his lungs. In the distance, the trees hid the hope of the capital.

Then, he lowered his attention onto the village. There were a couple dozen or less eyes, all slit, aimed at them. At him. Not one set looked at him with suspicion.

Lance smiled and waved in greeting.

That triggered action: the village exclaimed and several approached Lance in a large, fluid motion. They formed a crescent around them, remarking on their deeds, asking questions (Lance answered all he could). One gifted Keith a basket of the sweetest fruit Lance had ever smelled. Others promised him great meals later.

“I could get use to this,” Lance said to Keith. He spared the Red Paladin a glance, and found his tension a little endearing. Keith looked like he didn’t know how to handle so much attention, much less juggle the gratitude from it.

Lance meant what he said, but it wasn’t vanity speaking in his turn. He might not verbally admit it, but he didn’t demand showers of affection as a hero. To see these expressions on these aliens’ faces, Lance would easily sacrifice parades and thrones of gold for it.

The aliens welcomed him with such kindness, Lance couldn’t quite believe their luck. Maybe all their hero-ing was paying off some of the bad stroke of fortune. He accepted it, and leapt at the offer to explore the village, and personally chat with each alien willing to (Keith kept distance and let Lance do all the talking and bathing in the attention). By the end of the last conversation, Lance had built his character up to a mighty warrior decorated with daring deeds.

Huts dotted the land, cushioned by each other and large enough for a family of four. Lance spotted primitive weapons laid in wooden framework, and a mid-sized alien tending to them. Not far off on their tour, he found another peeling vegetables, and another weaving stalk. Lance wanted to spread those kinds of smiles and peace to all the planets.

At one point, he noticed a collection of young aliens huddled behind baskets stuffed with nuts. Lance watched them, biting his lip at their reluctant determination to spy on them. The one most out front, Lance realized, looked familiar.

“Hey,” he called over. All little pairs of ears jerked up. Lance beckoned. “I’m not going to bite you. Not sure about this one.” He gestured to Keith. When the kids’ eyes widened, he retracted that statement quickly. “It’s a joke, it’s a joke.”

He bent forward, mindful of his back. Again, he waved them over.

The first one stepped closer, closer still, and then hurried to Lance until he was an inch away.

“You survived.”

Lance crouched down to their eye level. “Of course I did. No one takes me down. What’s your name?” The child told him. “Hm. Yeah, I think nicknames are the way to go. Can I call you Kal?”

Kal nodded, eyes bulging. He dropped them. “You saved me and my companion. Because we wanted to prove we could hunt, but then you--”

The guilt quieted down when Lance rested a hand on the tuff of Kal’s hair. “You’re safe. That’s what matters. Plus, that’s what heroes do. No biggie.” He ruffled Kal’s hair. “So why don’t you ask your friends if they want to meet a real life hero?”

Kal turned to his onlooking friends, and gave a signal. The swarm of little aliens exclaimed and rushed at him. Lance grinned, feeling their small hands gently tug at his clothes, paw at his arms.

“Easy, there’s enough of me to go around, you know. What’s everyone’s name?”

They each told him, some more shyly than others. Lance knighted them with newfound nicknames that earned him big smiles. A couple dared to enter the domain of Keith’s personal space. Lance looked over at him, but Keith was focused on him, not the kids.

At least, until one tugged at his robes.

“Are you really a royal, Your Eminence?”

Keith hesitated. “Yes. Of sorts.”

"Do you bathe in jewels?"

"What? No. That's...not very hygienic."

“Is this one really a champion of your village?” another asked.

“Champion’s kind of a--” Keith cut off at the kid's face falling, “I mean, yeah...yes. Yes. Champion.”

Lance pressed his lips into a fine line to stifle his laugh. Watching Keith trying to converse with a couple of kids equated to a form of entertainment Lance deserved to indulge in a little. Hearing Keith refer to him as a champion though, he wasn’t really hating that.

“That’s right,” Lance said. He groaned for show as he straightened with Kal dangling from his flexing muscle. “Bravest and strongest!”

More exclamations, and soon Lance was the equivalent of a park ride for the kids to swing off his arms. Keith didn’t think it was such a good idea given Lance’s condition, but far be from the Blue Paladin to let down some kids.

When they begged them to come play at a spring, Lance had nothing in his heart to deny them.

The kids scurried on ahead once an older alien gave their approval.

“I’m not sure this is the best idea,” Keith said.

“Are you going to be the one to tell them the great Champion and Royal won’t stoop down to play with them? I didn’t know you were such a stuck up. Come on. They took us in after all.”

“As prisoners, at first.”

Lance was glad he was knocked out for that part. “And now?”

Keith snorted. But he didn’t protest the point further as he matched Lance’s stride and kept his posture more fitting for a royal than a tired paladin. 

The opportunity just right, Lance whispered, “So, how bad’s our situation exactly?”

“Could be better."

“I take it you haven’t reached contact with anyone.”

“No,” Keith whispered back. “I can’t tell if it’s because we’re out here in the middle of nowhere or something else. I haven't found out much.”

Lance trailed a little slower, but flashed an encouraging smile whenever the kids looked back to ensure they were following. “What about these trooper guys? Can they get us to the capital?”

“The alie-um...Rodi, he said the troopers protect this place. They run some kind of facility on the edge of the jungle. The different villages supply them and guide them through, and the troopers protect them from invasions.”

“But not crash-landing ships.”

“Guess not.”

“That doesn’t sound like a lot of information.”

Keith shook his head. “Rodi didn’t seem to know more than that. At first, I thought he was reluctant to trust me, but I think they’re just really,” he struggled for a word, “easy to persuade.”

Lance quirked a brow at him. “I think you mean ‘gullible’.” 

“You would know, wouldn't you.”

“Hey!”

Keith narrowed his eyes at Lance’s outburst. “Listen, I still think we should be cautious. We can’t be sure about anything yet.”

“Nothing’s been blown yet though, right? You know,” Lance gestured with his hands.

“What’s that?”

Lance furrowed his brows and repeated the gesture. “Cover.”

Keith stared at his hands.

“You know, like it’s covering something?” Lance did not stop to think that this conversation had the potential to deteriorate said 'cover'. “Cover, man.”

“Oh.” Keith Keith stopped talking as they past the back of a hut. Out of ear’s reach, he continued. “No. But...”

“Oh, I don’t like the sound of that ‘but’.” There was a good pun there, but Lance couldn’t dig it out when Keith was looking so serious.

“There’s...something else,” Keith said. "I guess I should tell you now."

Lance inclined his head, but Keith was looking at the ground. Ahead of them, the kids were hopping at the mouth of a cave, waving at them to hurry. “Okay,” Lance said, “spill. What is it?”

Keith didn’t answer right away. “The troopers. They’ll takes us to Laranta.”

Maybe it was all the coming and going of blood to Lance’s head lately that he didn’t understand. He struggled with the words and pulling sense from them. When he couldn’t, he shook his head. “Hold up, hold up,” he said, coming to a full stop. “But we’re _on_ Laranta.”

Keith crossed his arms again. “Yeah, well, I thought the same,” he said.

“Keith.”

Keith held his gaze.

“Where the _hell_ are we.”

Another pause. “Laranta’s moon?”

Blood was bubbling under Lance’s skin. His world flipped rightside on its head, and that was a pretty damn literal description. He stared up at the colorful, heavy planet they had thought was the moon, when it was Laranta all this time hanging heavy above them.

Were it not for the fact they had an audience, Lance’s voice would be rising. Still, the shrillness was able to inflict his hiss of a whisper.

“We’re on its _moon_?”

Keith opened his mouth. “I didn’t know-”

“You crash landed us on _its moon_?”

“Not on purpose!” Keith hissed back. He uncrossed his arms, fists clenched. “You saw how hard it was to see, and by the time we got into orbit, it was impossible to see where the ship was going!”

“We’re not even on the right _planet?_ ”

“Look, I’m sorry for that, okay? It-”

“When were you going to tell me? When we finally landed on the damn thing tomorrow?”

“No! I wanted to mention it earlier.”

“Then why _didn’t_ you?”

Keith flailed his hands. “It’s...A lot was going on, okay?”

“I can’t believe you!”

“I didn’t even know if you were going to make it out alive, Lance!”

Lance didn’t recognize they’d gotten so close to each other in their hushed arguing. This close, he could see Keith’s eyes, so open and somehow still such a mystery to Lance. If either of them leaned any closer, Lance was sure they could feel each other’s deep breaths.

He wanted to cling to his anger, stay ticked off. Were this at the start of their Voltron-ing, he would have dumped the blame on Keith and not lost a wink of sleep for it. Things weren’t like before anymore, not by a long shot.

Neither of them moved. Lance felt like he couldn’t with Keith’s eyes rooting him to the spot. The tension was palpable, but the hostility was non-existent. It pulled at the tenderness of Lance’s back.

Then, a tiny voice snapped Lance to their surroundings:

“Is something wrong?” Little Kal stood several feet from them, shoulders tense and ears flat. Behind him, the other children had huddled close together again at the mouth of a grotto.

Lance’s anger dwindled down to a slight ache in his temple. He surveyed the kids, feeling shitty that they picked up on his ire. Lance exhaled hard, if in part for the sake of his own recovery (Paladin hero or no, he could only take so much in a condensed time frame).

Shit though.

“Nope, not at all,” he said through a smile, loudly enough that they all heard him. “My, uh,” what was that term the translator hadn’t picked up on, “ _mela lle_ was just complaining of hunger. He’s very needy like that, pampered palace kid and all.”

The kids giggled. Weird, but they seemed to have bought his fib, their smiles plastered on their cute faces once again. Seemed like the rapid shift in a kid’s mind extended to aliens; they rushed on ahead with a few more beckoning calls and the promise of berries at the other end of the cave.

Lance side-glanced Keith. He caught Keith doing the same.

Lance sighed and palmed the back of his neck. He could go for a massage-filled spa kind of afternoon about now. “Quiznack,” he said.

Keith’s face softened. “Yeah. That.”

They shared another look. Lance sighed, shaking his head as he and Keith trailed side by side, on the wrong planet of all places. Not even a planet, Lance corrected. A moon.

It was a lot harder to digest than any of Coran’s goo.

Keith moved on ahead. When Lance only watched him, surprised, Keith said, “You said we should play with them. Did that change?”

Lance bit the inside of his cheek. They were stuck here for now, weren't they? He hurried along into the cave.

As the shade pulled over, Lance tilted his head back. The ribs of the cave were wide, and ceiling low enough for them to touch the denticulated rocks jutting downward if they wanted to. Lance did, feeling the smooth texture of something akin to limestone.

White light, dull but there, illuminated between the cracks of the rocks, splintering high to the ceiling or at times into the dirt beneath Lance’s boots. Vines as thin as strands of hair sprouted all along the sides, muting the luminescent light beneath it that much more.

“Whoa.” Lance turned in slow circles as they ventured deeper. He basked in the atmosphere, let his mind disconnect from the severity of their mission's current situation. The kids sang or shouted inside the cave, their onomatopoeias bouncing around in echoes. One didn’t seem as delighted by the darkness, and hung around Lance’s leg. “This is pretty cool.”

“Many villages have them,” Kal said. “Some are bigger than a whole village!”

“Do you feel that?” Keith asked, quietly.

Lance stopped to study the walls. He thought he could make something out beneath the plants. “Feel what?”

“Like,” Keith trailed off, then grunted. “I don’t know. It’s like the echo of some kind of energy.”

Lance brushed aside the vines. “By any chance, was it like the energy you felt back in the desert?”

“Actually, yeah.” Keith came by his side. “How’d you know?”

“Look.” Drawings, etched in white, contrasted against the dark of the cave. It filled the space, and was smooth under Lance’s palm as he dragged his hand delicately over the lines. “I’m getting some deja vu here.” Nothing about lions though.

He realized Keith’s hand was doing something similar. Their index fingers were inches apart.

“What is a desert?” asked Kal.

“It’s like, a big piece of land that’s dried up," Lance said. "Not a lot of life, or water."

“Oh. That does not sound nice. We do not have anything like that here.”

“It’s telling a story,” Keith said. “Look.” He stepped to the side, pointing at various more drawings. “It looks like some kind of light. A star?”

“Maybe some kind of creationilism?”

“Maybe it’s symbolic,” Keith offered.

“These look like cavepeople would have done it. Cave...aliens. I don’t think they got symbolism back then. Hey, Kal,” Lance called, dropping his hand from the wall. “These are incredible. What are these?”

Kal came closer. “These are tales of old, old generations. Mother says they tell the tale of our origins.”

“Are all the caves like this?” Keith asked.

“Mother says so.”

“Huh.” Lance tilted his head, appraising the work. “So, what’s it saying?”

Kal pointed. “It’s about the spirit that gave our worlds life. So we must treat it all with respect. That’s what mother says.”

Lance quirked a brow. A spirit definitely sounded more tale-appropriate and the work of primitive minds making sense of the abnormal.

They moved along at the kids’ behest. Lance swept his attention on anymore drawings, picking out bits and pieces. Sketches of a barren land, then a flourish of trees and wild creatures. The source-of-light-thing could have easily been a rendering of some deity for all they knew. There were always wisps of lines around it. Not that it meant anything to Lance.

They stayed with him as they stepped out into a clearing. Lance let himself stand still, soaking in the sight of trees taller than he’d seen yet, clustered around to create a private area. Their trunks were so thick they pressed into one another, but the spring crept its way down through them, trickling down into a shallow pool. Flowers sprinkled its surface, and there was a glimmer to the water Lance couldn't pinpoint where it came from.

“It’s beautiful,” Keith said.

Lance looked at him. It wasn’t a kind of comment he’d expected from Keith. But his gaze was relaxed, the natural light of the planet catching his skin in the blues and greens of the enclosure against the deep red of his robes.

It was strange thinking they’d just been arguing with another. “Yeah,” Lance breathed. 

Water sprinkled onto Lance. He turned away in time to see the kids wading in the water, wetting their hands before shaking them off on each other, and Lance.

Lance grinned. He chased them.

It felt like he could do this for days, and humor the idea that all was fine with the universe. The children asked about his planet, and Lance couldn’t completely lie to their happy little faces. So he told stories of the water, of the swell of currents and the creatures lurking beneath its depths. In turn, the children told them of the crops they harvest, the animals they hunt (Lance learned the beast that chased him was only a baby-yikes, much?), and of dances Lance hoped he got to try one day.

There were no Galra to fight, no threats breathing down his neck, no nightmares that warned him of the future to come if they failed. In place of the roar of a hungry animal, there was the babble of the water and the happy shrieks of the kids.

And there was Keith too.

He’d taken refuge against a trunk, arms crossed, watching Lance. He'd been doing that a lot today. He hadn’t eaten any berries either.

“Hey,” Lance called to him, “are you just going to stand there, Your _Eminence_?”

Keith’s shoulders bunched up at the title. “You look like you got it covered.”

Lance hummed, then plucked a handful of berries. Crouching down to the kids, he supplied their hands with ammunition and whispered to him. The young aliens took off at his words, and the look on Keith’s face when they flocked over to him had Lance burst out laughing. They tugged at his sleeves until he bent down to their level.

Whatever they told him, it had his head whip up, eyes locked on Lance.

Uh-oh.

Keith and the army of children came at Lance. “What, hey, hey, no! That’s the opposite of what y--” But he was laughing as the kids declared war, half chucking berries at Lance (Keith was among them), and others defending him.

It was probably a waste of good berries. Then Keith started laughing, and it wasn’t a waste at all. Lance didn’t really feel himself stopping to look at the big smile on his face. It was only for a heartbeat, and then Lance was flinging berries back, bringing Team Lance back from the brink of defeat.

This, Lance knew, is what all worlds should be like.

When the battle was over (a truce was called), Lance felt renewed down to his soul. The kids were half-wilted from the fun, one in particular reluctant to traverse all the way back on foot. It ended with Lance scooping them up in one arm. Another grabbed onto his free hand, and two others had called dibs on Keith’s. He actually didn’t look like he minded.

Lance let Keith walk a little ways ahead just so he could imprint the memory. Keith hand-in-hand with kids. He didn’t know why it meant something, or what that meaning was, but it was there.

Shaking the feeling off for now, Lance walked beside him. He glanced at the images of the cave again as they passed through. The alien in his arm squirmed and nuzzled under his neck. It brought him back to Earth for a moment, back to his family, on a warm Autumn’s night after a day spent at a fair, his youngest sister asleep in one arm.

“I guess we could have landed in worse places,” Lance said quietly.

Keith glanced over at him, and nodded. He stared a little longer than Lance thought normal, his gaze jumping from the dozing alien in Lance’s arm to Lance again.

Keith actually smiled, if a little one. They didn’t say more, but Lance knew Keith agreed. They’d succeed in their mission, for every kid, every family, every world.

They had a celebratory dinner fit for a prince. At first, Lance gawked at their main course, seeing a familiar face burnt a few good degrees. Hunters had located the wounded animal Lance had outsmarted, and presented Lance and Keith with choice of first pick. The tail had been cut off previously, used for some kind of tonic.

After the first, awkward and tentative bite, Lance figured better eating than being eaten. The village joined in after, their chatter and energy just like it was back at his home. When Lance was full enough to hold him over two days, he sat back and listened to the tales of old. More than twice, he felt his knee pressing against Keith's.

Lance didn’t quite feel ready when the time came to call the day done. He lagged behind, though Rodi assured them the hut they had used was theirs for the remainder of their stay. Lance knew he’d miss him already.

“Thanks,” Lance said. “For everything. I'm feeling a lot better after that great meal."

“It has been quite an experience for us as well. If it was allowed, we would like you to return,” Rodi said. “The children would enjoy your company again. We all would. We will miss you and your _male lle_.”

“Yeah, what’s that mean exactly?”

Rodi contemplated. “Hm. Perhaps if I tried another expression. The one to be bound at the soul with yours?”

Lance blinked. “Sorry. Run that by me again.”

Rodi tried another phrase, and it was hilariously (but not) worse than the first. Lance’s face felt like it exploded with heat. The only thing that kept his voice down was that Keith was inside the hut behind him. “You...Y-You all think...me...and...and...No way!”

Rodi looked guilt-ridden. Lance bit on his tongue from letting more words fall out of his mouth. “Are you not? The manner in his attention to you, especially when you were ill,” he trailed off, “apologies. It seems we have offended you. We were presumptuous to think our way was the same for you. ”

Oh, double quiznack. “No, no,” Lance shook his hands, forcing a laugh that might have cracked. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Seriously. Just...forget it, okay? I meant nothing by it. You’ve all been nothing but awesome.”

That seemed to cheer Rodi up. In truth, Lance didn’t really hear much after as they parted for the day. His blood was clotting his hearing, heart pounding as the shock stuck on him like a virus. Lance inhaled deeply, hoping the cool air would wash away the worst of the heat.

But he couldn’t quite stop himself from wondering if the whole village thought as much. Lance cursed internally, remembering he’d openly referred to Keith as that term, thinking it had a meaning along the lines of princeliness.

Lance seriously needed a vacation. Did Paladins ever get to put in a personal day off?

Somehow he didn’t think so.

He felt heavy as he finally came inside the hut, opting out of sharing with Keith what he’d just discovered. After all, Keith hadn’t been exactly forthcoming about everything either, so Lance thought he had enough high ground to do the same here.

He stopped at seeing Keith stretching out some kind of foliage-weaved mat onto the ground.

“What are you doing?” Lance asked.

Keith flattened his hands on the material. “Making a bed? I don’t want to trouble them with more requests.”

Lance glanced over to the single bed in the room. He’d forgotten all about it. “There’s a bed there.”

“Your back needs it more.”

Lance did want to sleep on the bed. Beauty sleep was not acquired on hard surfaces, least of all on a strange moon with a temperature less fit for sleeping on the ground. “You could also get sick down there. _And_ nobility and royalty don't sleep on floors.”

“I almost never get sick.”

Lance felt his cheeks getting warm again, for a different reason. “Fine,” he said, making his way to the bed and undoing his boots, extra careful with the bad leg. As he stretched it, he snuck peeks at Keith, each time feeling like what Rodi said was getting to him.

Lance didn’t know if that was worse than stewing on the idea of Keith on the ground. His eyebrows knotted tightly together like they might get stuck like that. Not good. It was going to give Lance premature wrinkles.

It wasn’t really the whole fake-royal thing sleeping on the floor that pestered him as much as Keith one-upping him. Keith acted like he could sleep just fine on the floor, and maybe that was true, but Lance could too. Rodi’s comment, somehow, aggravated the whole thing that much more.

There was the option of no one getting the bed, but an unused bed and two people on the floor would look stupider. What remained though was the option Lance wanted to give a wide berth to. He confronted it though, because if not, that meant there was something weird going on between them, that Rodi’s comment held validity. There wasn’t, and it didn’t.

Lance scooted to one edge of the bed. “Hey.”

Keith peered over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Get off the dirt and get in.”

“Where?”

Lance pointed hard at the bed. “Here.”

Keith blinked very slowly.

“Christ, look,” Lance hardened his look, “there’s more than enough room, and if Hunk and I could fit in a bunk--long story--then I can just about fit with anyone anywhere. Plus, given how _great_ things have been going, I bet on my good hair that you’ll end up sick. Then what?”

Keith stared at him for a while. Each tick felt like a test to Lance’s patience, and his heart felt like it wanted to crawl out of his chest.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m always sure.”

Keith looked like he didn’t believe that, and had references to source. But then he stood up slowly and said ‘fine’, and Lance’s breath held still. 

After slipping out of his shoes, Keith slowly crept in. Lance wished he’d turned around before getting that view shortly before clocking out. He shimmied back a little more. Neither bothered with the flimsy blanket.

Keith lied down with his back to Lance.

Lance breathed again.

Okay.

No biggie. This was fine.

Lance was cool.

Of course he was. He should shut his eyes, but the adrenaline was still rampant in him. It alerted him to the exact contours of Keith’s silhouette, the strands of hair around his ear, the patch of skin barely exposed right under his jaw before the high collar hid the rest.

Lance listened to Keith’s even breaths. He found some calm in it.

“How are you feeling?” Keith asked suddenly. It was quiet.

“Me? I’m good, good. Always good. Of course.”

“You don't sound that good."

"Been a crazy twenty-four hours. Was your head hit that hard you forgot?"

"I wouldn't forget.”

“Hm. Yeah, I was pretty badass. Hard to forget that.”

Keith groaned and didn’t ask more.

A long pause. “You?” Lance asked. "I mean...how are you doing?"

“...I’m fine.”

“And your head?”

“It’s had worse.”

“That doesn’t sound healthy.”

“I’m not the one that got a fever,” Keith said.

“I wouldn’t be a good escort if you got sick, would I?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Keith huffed, then shifted. “Do you really have enough room? Your back--”

“Yes, _mom_.”

“I was just asking.”

“Well, don’t. I’m fine, aren’t I?”

“You weren’t fine.”

Lance dragged his eyes over the fabric design spreading up Keith’s side. “I’m always fine,” he said.

Keith snorted and curled a little into himself. Then, after a while, he said, “Hey...What you were telling the kids from before. The ocean. It was something from Earth, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe. Why?”

“It sounded, I don’t know. Nice.”

“Yeah. It really is. You could surf ten-foot waves easily.”

“You can surf?” Keith asked.

“Of course.” Not exceptionally well, but Keith hadn’t asked that.

“Oh.” Insects buzzed outside. “They really like you.”

“Um, yeah. I'm really like-able."

“I meant those kids.”

Lance didn’t know why hearing Keith say that tickled his cheeks. “They liked you too. Granted, not as much as me.”

“You think?”

Lance’s breath hitched when Keith glanced back at him. “Yeah…”

Keith rolled back. The silence strained, like there were words supposed to be in its place. Lance didn’t know what they should be. Maybe about the mission and its current predicament. Maybe about their fellow teammates. Maybe about them.

“Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“Sleep well.”

Lance stayed frozen for a breath. Licking his lips, he stretched out a little the way he normally would in bed if he were on his side. His back faintly throbbed. He didn't want to think about changing the bandages tomorrow, or how the last time he was in this bed was after Keith had taken his clothes off. He didn't want to think about anything.

“You too,” Lance said. 

Keith’s even breathing stabilized into sleep soon after. For some reason, Lance was surprised he didn’t snore. For someone who lived life on an instinct and on the cusp of a temper tantrum, Keith slept like a baby.

Lance watched the back of his head, reminded of how many knocks to it it had gotten in a short time span. He wondered if he brushed aside his hair, he’d find lumps. Lance squeezed his hands into fists and tucked into himself more..

The hum of more insects thrummed outside. Somewhere, the alien kids were drifting off, and a little farther off, Shiro and Allura would be in Laranta. And much, much, farther than that, Lance hoped his family was holding out strong. Hopefully.

Lance exhaled slowly and calmed his mind in time with Keith’s breathing. The warmth from his body blanketed over Lance, easing the muscles he had kept tense since Keith came into bed. Lance wouldn't remember dozing off.

That night, he dreamt sweet dreams of his family.

**-X-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course Keith would feed Lance. Of course they'd share a bed. I'm weak.
> 
> If you have the time, I’d love comments. I would like to know if the change of pace felt smooth, and that it didn’t just feel boring. I hope to have some of these scenes like this to give the space boys time to adjust and respond to one another more, but I still want to emphasize the action of the plot too (we're getting there!).
> 
> I also cut a lot out because it was a lot of over-explaining or too flowery, so I’d also appreciate it if you could share your thoughts if it read easily.
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

 

 Keith woke with Lance’s arm around him.

Its weight was warm around his waist, coaxing him out of sleep. It was very unlike his usual method of waking. A lazy grogginess replaced the alertness, and as the haze of deep sleep faded, he followed the pressure of the arm to the rest of Lance’s body pressed up against his back.

Keith’s eyes fluttered open.

Lance’s forehead was pressed into the base of his head, the tip of his nose bumping into Keith’s neck.Their legs had contoured against each other, and it took several, deep breaths for Keith to label what Lance was doing as snuggling.

It shouldn’t have surprised him. Lance seemed the type to be victim to the throes of his dreams (Keith had witnessed the worst of it during the fever), so it wasn’t a stretch to imagine Lance having snatched the closest thing into an embrace. It just happened to be Keith this time.

The worst part of it was that _this_ wasn’t the worst. The reality that none of Lance’s pawing had stirred Keith out of his sleep could be a cause for concern though. If they had the luxury for more concerns.

They didn’t.

Outside, it was quiet, the moon at peace and its low light shifting through the ribbons of foliage that made the door. Lance’s breathing was deep and even, a contrast to the way Keith had seen when he’d fallen sick: writhing and thrashing, crying out like pieces of him were dying with every breath.

Keith inhaled deeply. Lance had survived. Seeing him walking around, pulling bad lines like his usual self had rattled Keith. He couldn’t pinpoint why. Not that he really bothered with the why’s of life. He lived on the pull of his instincts and the emotions that were perpetually worn on his sleeve.

Right now, they were mostly about Lance. Revisiting Lance talking with the aliens, playing with the kids, smiling and laughing like he hadn’t almost lost his life. Lance’s skin hot and sickly under his hands.

Okay, he’d seen Lance naked, but it wasn’t like he’d had the time to do anything with that image. It had been under bad circumstances too, so it meant nothing. Keith didn’t know why then it made him a little warm and bothered.

He didn’t really want to pull away either, and there was a dangerous urge to peek over at Lance’s face, or touch his hand. It had been cold when he’d been sick. Now, Keith suspected it was warm.

In the end, Keith slowly peeled away, moving enough to hopefully wake Lance. The mission was prioritized in his mind, even if his emotions were battling to get some attention. But they’d lost too much time, and the troopers would be taking them to Laranta.

They couldn’t afford to let Zarkon get an advantage, Keith reminded himself.

Lance stirred. He moaned faintly and Keith got up in time to see him rub his eyes. He might have also watched how Lance yawned and opened his eyes slowly. Keith liked the sight.

“Oh,” Lance said, blinking sleepily at him. He propped onto one elbow and rubbed at his eyes again. “Man…”

“What is it?”

“Thought it had all been a dream…”

“Oh.” Keith didn’t know what to say to that. So he stretched and said, “We should get up. I think they’ll be expecting us soon.”

“Did you get up a while ago?” Lance asked around a yawn.

“No.” Keith didn’t say anything about how he woke up either. He stared on, reminded that Lance was alive in front of his eyes. The thought that he might relapse yesterday had weighed Keith’s heart down and took up most of his thoughts.

“Mm. Good.” Lance tried for a big stretch, then hissed. “Ow, ow, ow…!”

"Lance!”

Lance groaned, eyes pinched shut. “Don’t shout so early. Shouldn’t have done that was all. I’m sore as hell.” When his eyes opened again, they were wide. “Uh...a little space, man?”

Keith realized he was looming over, one hand on either side of Lance’s body. “Oh, yeah. Right.” He withdrew, straightening. “But your back--”

“It’s fine. Jesus.” Lance looked a little flustered, and wasn’t meeting his gaze anymore.

“We should change your bandages before we go.”

Lance’s head shot up, then ducked down as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I can worry about that once we’re on the right planet.” He stretched, more carefully this time, inspecting his leg.  

He yawned once more, and Keith noticed his hair a little bit in disarray. It didn’t look _bad_. Though Keith might not know, given how often Lance had criticized his hair’s natural state. At least it gave him a reason to look away and prep himself for all that royal nonsense.

Lance got up, and they didn’t really say anything. The air had shifted, almost heavy. Keith thought it was maybe the apprehension of finally parting way with what had been a humble, kind species. After they were fed, Lance taught all those willing how to shake hands in parting, and he did not miss one pat on a little alien’s head, promising the champion would be a protector to them all too.

When they flocked to Keith, he couldn’t disappoint them in a proper farewell.

The troopers arrived with noise. Keith heard the whirr of a craft before it landed in a clearing nearby. Rodi escorted them personally, and to greet the alien villager that had aided the troopers to their location the quickest way. His good-bye was with Lance first, where he palmed a small ointment for his recovery. Lance handled the kindness better than Keith would have.

When Rodi came to him finally, Keith smiled a little when the alien offered a hand to shake. Keith didn’t mind the touch, and shook it.

“Your Eminence,” a trooper called. “We must depart.” The tone was sharp, and Rodi instantly let Keith go, head ducked.

Just before they were guided into the awaiting craft, Lance called out a promise to see them again.

"We'll see them again, right?" Lance asked, gazing out the window as they ascended.

From Keith's point of view, it looked like Lance's gaze was far away, too far for Keith to see where it was at. 

"You did make a promise," Keith said.

Lance's expression softened. "Yeah."

Keith really didn't know if they could keep it.

 

**-x-**

 

The view took a little of Keith’s breath away.

Clouds, curlier than Keith had ever seen on Earth, gave way to the splendor that was Laranta. Its name sounded how it looked, decadent and colored with activity they could see from this altitude. Ships sailed down into ports. Flags of every color billowed from the tallest structure, each of them miraculously floating aloft the planet.

Somewhere, some kid must have envisioned this as some kind of heaven.

“Wow.” Lance had the expanse of the window to one side and was pressing up against it. It might have improved Keith’s mood seeing him like that, were he not so restless.

Up to now, they’d sat in tense, anxious silence. Neither of them trusted the ears of these troopers so easily. Keith had begun to understand how easily Laranta’s troops could reach agreements with the natives on the moon. It wasn’t hard with weapons at your hips, and your only other option was a ruthless race of Galra on the trajectory to colonize them at some point.

The troopers had one prerogative: to transport them safely and directly to Laranta (to somewhere more ‘civilized’ as one trooper put it--Keith hadn’t liked his tone. That meant no rumored facilities to investigate, and no questions answered. So silence it had been, not at all like their original excursion to the planet.

They hadn’t been shot down on the way over. That accounted for something.

At the epicenter of Laranta’s activity, spiraled tiers of marble broke through clouds, sitting atop long towers of a citadel. Keith knew that’s where they were headed. From up here, he couldn’t tell if Allura or Shiro’s forms were among the crowds. He hoped they were.

“Your Eminence, we’re coming to a landing. If you’d take your seat.”

Keith caught Lance’s gaze. They prepped for the landing.

Upon the descent, Keith’s blood pulsed harder. He was clenching his hands on instinct at pulling every scrap of information Coran and Allura had provided. They were a water-species of a queendom. He was a royal. He had no siblings. Their planet produced rare algae for tonics. He...He had to do this right.

Lance’s hand startled him. It smoothed over his own before Keith’s brain processed it was even there.

“Easy,” Lance whispered to him. He was looking intently at the trooper now posted in their cabin. He gave a squeeze, and then his hand slipped off as quickly as it had surprised Keith.

Keith found his muscles relaxing. He inhaled deeply, grounding himself next to Lance’s presence.

After two checkpoints and an eternity later, they were stepping out. Keith thought he now understood what Lance meant about everything having being a dream. It felt like they were waking up to reality.

And to a surge of energy. Keith’s hair felt on end for a tick before the feeling dulled down to something pulsing at the edge of his senses. He squinted at the light from outside, _real_ light from a neighboring sun that made the marble glow and brightened the shades of the flags. But most of all, it illuminated the entourage that came to greet them. Guards held position behind a figure dolled up more appropriately for the capital than the others. He was big in a different way from Rodi, both in height and the bulk of his arms, and had hair about him that reminded Keith of a lion’s mane.

“Your Eminence,” the big one said, voice deep and sounding as opulent as he looked. When he smiled, his fangs looked sharp. “Welcome to Laranta. We have been so concerned, and now so relieved to see you standing tall.”

Keith made a point to think before he spoke. “Yes, it was...difficult,” he replied. It sounded more truthful than he liked. “Thank you...for coming out to greet us.” God, was this really him talking?

“You humble us so. Please, allow us to make your visit comfortable. I’m sure you have questions to be answered once you've settled. You’ve endured much and we cannot begin to remedy it.”  He bowed deeply. Keith almost mimicked the gesture before he decided better of it.

Some answers _now_ would be a good start, is what Keith wanted to say in response. Instead, he nodded. “Thank you again, ah...er...what’s your name?”

Big Guy’s ears flicked up, like he was surprised Keith would ask that. Was it a bad move? But then Big Guy smiled and said, “You are most gracious to ask. You may call me Marik, Your Eminence. Allow me to guide you and, ah,” he trailed off, and glanced over Keith’s shoulder. “I take it this is your--”

“Lance.” The Blue Paladin had a brow up, arms crossed. “The champion escort here to ensure nothing happens to him.” He jerked his thumb at Keith. “I’m kind of like a warrior, of a select elite back on our planet.”

Keith blinked, impressed with the life Lance had already fabricated for himself. And it made sense, given the overall peaceful mindset of the planet they pretended to be from. An elite, small group of warriors. Sounded believable enough. Keith had to resist a smile.

“Where I go, he goes,” Keith said.

Marik studied Lance a little longer, but the protest never came. Lance was, however, given a pat down (and not Keith, which didn't seem sensible but far be from Keith to give them a reason). Lance tensed at first, then smirked all the way through. He even threw a painful line.

Keith stopped his eye roll before it happened.

Satisfied, Marik apologized for the precaution and urged them onward. Keith took the opportunity to scope around as much as able. Those in guard uniform made way for them, and Lance was an incredibly close pressure against his back. Keith wanted to look back at him.

The earlier thought that the structures were floating was spot on. Keith had to stop to stare at the citadel. It levitated above the planet a handful of feet, wisps of a gentle breeze coming from the space between.

Lance whistled. Keith looked back to see him gazing up, so he did the same. The towers hovered independently, the hint of equally floating walkways connecting them to the main building.

“Amazing, don’t you think?”

Keith looked back at Marik. “It’s...I didn’t know what to expect,” he said. When a large hand coaxed him to walk along, Keith did. “We don't have anything like that where we come from.”

“Yes, as your home is predominantly water. That has its own beauties,” Marik said, smiling down at him. “We only hope the Galra have not left too great a damage.”

Keith fisted his hands, forced them to relax. “They did enough.”

“My condolences, Your Eminence.”

“ _So_ ,” Lance said, a little louder than Keith thought appropriate, “is it some kind of magic?”

Marik didn’t even look at Lance. “It’s our planet’s energy. It’s unique and unlike what any other in our galaxy has.”

Keith wasn’t particularly impressed with that answer. He’d hoped for something with a little more weight. It did sort of explain the power he felt. Or...whatever it was.

As they stepped onto a platform that stretched to a massive door, he tucked aside the multitude of other questions. It required more will than usual, his impatience demanding he earn some answers.

 _Patience yields focus_. Keith hung to Shiro’s words like the lifeline they would be for this operation.

Repeating the mantra, Keith took in everything he could as the doors opened. His eyes widened at the colossal proportions inside. High ceilings, vaulted and decorated with glass etchings of a pattern that ran down more hallways than seemed necessary. Windows wide and arched let in light and views of clouds at the upper levels, catching colors off designs carved into thick pillars. 

Their steps echoed against the tiles. Keith thought of the kids back in the cave, wondered what they would think of a sight like this.

He did not miss the guards stationed along various hall openings, and several more at what must have been other entrances. The floor they came into was empty of activity. Was this the kind of place Allura meant he and Lance would have to explore?

 _It’ll take days_ , Keith thought.

“Not exactly a festive welcoming, is it?” Lance, again. Not too quietly either.

“We expected your weariness. I assure you there will be celebrations to be had.”

Keith snuck a peek at Lance at those words. Lance’s eyebrows wiggled.

“But the monarch will see to you before that,” Marik said.

Keith’s heart sunk a notch. “The...monarch?”

Marik peered down at him, his smile back. “Of course. She apologizes being unavailable at your arrival, and will return shortly. Until then, it will allow time to recover in a more appropriate setting for one such as yourself.”

Keith had felt way more comfortable on the moon with the natives than where he was now.

“I understand,” Keith said, not really understanding.

“We’ve prepared a room,” Marik continued. He lead them to an elevator that looked fancier than it needed to be. Keith took note of the holographic screen labeling various floors. There was an attendant who did the finger swiping. Was there one for every elevator?

Lance stood between him and Miraak the ride up. When the door hissed open, they were in another hallway, less grand in size. At the end, marked by a blue door, Marik revealed their room. Keith didn’t think he could keep up with all the newness of everything, and how extravagant every fabric or tile looked. Their room was no exception, bigger than all their rooms back in Allura’s castle combined.

The tank of water at the center, encased in sculpted glass, took the focalpoint. Keith tried not to gawk at it.

Marik was explaining the luxuries at their disposal (an intercom, food, and spare clothing to name a few). Keith had to blink rapidly out of his ogling and pay attention.

"This is our room?" Keith asked. 

"Of course. We've spared no expense."

"No shit," Lance said, but it was under his breath, thankfully.

"Thank you," Keith said quickly. When Marik offered his services to personally see them settled in, Keith persuaded him otherwise. A little alone time was desperately needed already.

“Then,” Marik said. “I’ll return for you. Please use the intercom should you require anything in the interim."

Keith wished a touch of a button would point them in the right direction.

Once Marik shut the door with a soft click behind him, Keith waited a lot of held-in breaths before finally doubling over, half-exhaling, half-groaning. God, how many days was he supposed to keep this up again?

“That was--” he lifted his head at a weird noise Lance made. He found the Blue Paladin scrambling around the room, downright crawling up the intricate reliefs jutting out from the walls. “What the hell are--”

Lance made a gesture: _shut your quiznack._

Keith frowned but watched Lance swipe his hands along anything he could. Keith raised a brow, tapping his foot expectant when Lance repeated the act on the other half of the room, even inspecting a bowl (that looked like it was worth more than anything Keith ever owned combined) filled with fruit. When he was finally done, he hopped down and sighed relief.

“Okay,” Lance said. “I think we’re okay. I didn’t find anything.”

“What were you looking for?”

Lance raised both hands up. “Uh, hello? To see if they bugged the place. Can’t be too careful.”

Keith didn’t even think about that. He looked after Lance, who was circling the tank. “That’s...actually a good idea.”

Lance’s eyes got a little big. He inhaled deeply and returned to the tank. “Of course it is,” he said. “I’m full of good ideas.”

Keith had a handful of events to contest that. It could wait because he wanted to inspect the tank as well, and the habitat it supported. Swaying plantlife, sand the color of Lance’s eyes (weird observation was weird). Little hammock-looking things drifting on the surface, nestled between some kind of plant on either side that kept it in place.

Lance pressed his hands to the glass, humming. “They really went all out for you, huh? I’m starting to feel you’re a little more important than Allura thought you’d be.”

Keith moaned and rubbed his temple. He leaned his back against the glass, feeling the cool temperature through the fabric of his clothes.

He could feel Lance looking at him. “You okay over there, _Your Eminence_?”

“Don’t call me that.” Keith scrubbed at his face. “That was brutal.”

“You’re kidding. No, nevermind. I get it. You’re waaaay out of your element.”

“You think?” Keith sank down, stretching out his legs.

“Hey.” Lance stood beside him. “You aren’t actually thinking of chickening out now.”

“I have to meet their monarch.”

“Uh...yeah. This whole ‘fake alliance’ thing, remember?”

“Allura would have been better at this.”

“No duh, but she’s also kind of well known.”

“She was asleep for ten thousand years.”

“ _And_ she can blend in better out there. She’s better not playing the Princess for once.”

“But I am?”

Lance looked up as if considering that. “Crazily, yeah. You are, Princess.”

Keith glared up. “I’m not chickening out. It’s...it’s just a lot. Like, a lot more when you’re actually doing it.” He clenched his fists, suddenly desperate for the weight of his dagger.

“Dude, you’re overthinking things.”

Keith groaned and knocked his head lightly against the glass. He winced, forgetting the bruise.

“Jesus, don’t do that. I know you got a thick head, but damn.”  Lance grunted as he crouched beside him. “Hey.”

“What.”

Lance didn’t continue until Keith met his eyes. “Listen, we’ve been colonized for years by Zarkon, right?”

Keith hesitated. “Right…”

“You’ve been through a lot, maybe you even have some PTSD. You got plenty of wiggle room to, you know,” Lance circled his hand around, “get away with a lot.”

“I...guess.”

“Plus,” Lance carefully sat down beside him, “you got me. That’s all anyone ever needs.” He flashed Keith a smile that was mostly cockiness. Keith thought though there was a little bit of something else in it. Something that didn’t set off his annoyance.

Whatever it was, it pulled a smile out of him too. It stayed on him, confidence boosted the longer Lance held his eyes. Again their arms were close to touching. Keith knew the air between them had changed, and it wasn’t just because of the mission. It was like their very energy had morphed in response to...something.

“Do you feel it,” Keith asked. He didn’t know why he spoke quietly.

“Feel what?”

“The energy.”

Lance’s eyes got big again. That’s twice in a short span of time. They were close enough that Keith saw the flush sweep over his nose and cheeks. The details of Coran’s makeup, as the Altean had sworn on his grandfather’s beard, was still holding strong. “Uh, e-energy…?”

“It’s stronger here.”

Lance swallowed. “Here…?”

Keith felt a different energy now, not the one he was talking about at the start. This one was thicker, hot, and between him and Lance. Keith’s heart was picking up. The hell.

Suddenly, the devices in their ears screeched. Keith clamped his hand over his head as the sound dropped down into a whine, then a crackle. He heard Lance curse beside him.

**“Guys? Hello, do you copy?”**

Keith and Lance whipped their heads up.

 _“Pidge!_ ” Lance laughed his relief. He shot up to his feet. “Oh, buddy, I never thought I’d be so happy to hear your grating little voice.”

**“I was going to ask if you were alright but I see you’re as much as an ass as before.”**

“Aw, admit it. You were worried about my ass.”

Keith got up and shoved Lance’s arm. “Pidge, what’s everyone’s status? Are Shiro and Allura alright? Did they make it?”

**“They’re on Laranta. They arrived early this morning. We’re all accounted for now that I finally got hold of you two.”**

Keith exhaled heavily. “Good.”

**“What the hell happened?”**

“Long story,” Lance said, stealing looks at the door. His voice had lowered. “We were shot down. Landed on the moon. The usual.”

 **“They weren’t kidding.** ”

“Who?” Keith asked.

**“The aliens aboard your ship made it out of the galaxy. Hunk intercepted them. They said you were attacked but we couldn’t find anything out. Whatever took you out was dealt with.”**

“We’re hoping to find out more today,” Keith said. “They just settled us into a room. What we do know is that it wasn’t Galra though.”

**“Not sure I feel comforted by that fact.”**

“We’re alive and where we’re supposed to be,” Lance said. “That’s enough for now.”

**“I know. I can pick up your radars now. Sometimes. It’s kind of funky.”**

“But you can work around it, right?” Keith asked.

**“Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m not an amateur.”**

Keith smirked at that. “Yeah. Right. Sorry.”

**“Don’t apologize. It’s beneath you right now.”**

“What about Shiro and Allura?” Keith asked. “Are they on this transmission?”

**“No, I’m working on getting us all online at the same time. But it’s being fickle.”**

“Where _are_ you?” Lance asked.

**“At the edge of the galaxy. After Hunk got the aliens back to the castle, we thought it best Coran stay back until we figured things out. I’m staying low for now.”**

“What about--”

**“Listen, we have to cut this short. I don’t trust these connections. We’ve been keeping communications short and at specific intervals. You both remember the code, right?”**

“Clearing our throats if we’re unable to talk,” Lance repeated, frowning. “Not exactly elegant. What’s going on with our communications?”

**“It’s hard to explain, especially to you guys. No offense, Keith.”**

“Hello?” Lance waved to himself as if Pidge could see. “I’m here too.”

**“Yeah. I know. Listen, I need to end transmission. I’ll update the others. Just do what you were told to do. I'll contact you soon."**

The line ended, the lingering silence laden with relief.

“Well,” Lance said, “that answers a couple questions.”

“And gives us new ones.” Keith could stand a little taller now, knowing the status of the others. Nothing had been jeopardized. Yet.

“Which is why we better make damn well good use of any chance we get,” Lance said, pointing at Keith. “First thing after meeting that monarch person, is a tour of anything we can get.”

Keith crossed his arms. “A tour...yeah. Okay. Maybe they’ll be able to tell us about this...energy of the planet.”

Lance tapped his chin, then shrugged. “Either way, it’s the best we got for now.”

Keith agreed, only there was something else he thought eclipsed all that. “Then, speaking of chances,” Keith gestured toward Lance. “I think we should check on your injuries.”

Lance really tensed up. Probably a bad move, because he grimaced and leaned away from the discomfort. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Lance, you can get worse if--"

"I'm not going to get worse."

"You _did_ back on the moon."

"Don't start--"

"I'm _not_ starting.  _You're_ acting like a baby again. If you don’t--”

“God, _fine._ You’re worse than my mom.”

Keith considered if that was a compliment. His request for bandages via the intercom elicited a string of concern that took some extra assurance before an attendant brought them in, along with towels and other supplies Keith didn't know what to do with. He waited a good while once the attendant had left before he 

Tucked off to the side sat a wide bed, like it had been put there as an afterthought. It certainly was better pickings than the tank, so Keith settled on the edge. It took Lance some awkward, pacing ticks to finally come closer.

Keith’s eyes fell to Lance’s hands as they worked on his outfit.

“Um,” Lance’s hands paused, “I can do this myself.”

Keith’s gaze hurried back up. “Are you kidding? No, you can't.”

“Yes, I can!”

“How are you going to put on that ointment.”

Lance shut up like he’d totally forgotten about that. He fished it out from where he’d stashed it away. Keith held out his hand, eyebrows up. Forever later, Lance slipped it into his palm. Without saying anything, for once.

Keith braced himself for the view of Lance’s back as the layers of his clothing slipped off. As a young man susceptible to his impulses, Keith soaked in the details of Lance’s skin this up close. Maybe because Lance wasn’t able to look at him, that Keith memorized the point of which he could see the subtle bumps of Lance’s spine, or the length of his shoulder span.

In dense, hot silence, Keith helped unwrap the bandages. Rodi’s work had assuaged Lance’s injury down to the beginnings of a scar. It was long, cutting from Lance’s right shoulder blade down across the left of his back. When Keith blinked, he could still see the ravaged skin, broken, bleeding, oozing.

His fingertips grazed the rough edges. Lance inhaled sharply, whole body going rigid.

“Sorry.” Keith’s hand jerked back. “I was just--”

“It’s fine.” A sound like Lance was swallowing. “I’m fine, I mean. Just get it over with.”

Keith studied the back of Lance’s neck a moment before he grabbed the salve. It was cool to his fingers. His chest felt a little tight as he scooted closer, and he didn’t know why he held his breath when he smoothed the ointment over.

Lance hissed. “Jesus, that’s cold.”

“Sorry. I tried to warm it up on my fingers.”

Lance sort of cleared his throat, but didn’t say anything. Keith couldn’t say anything either. The constriction on his chest was reinforced by the thumping of his heart. He could feel each inch of Lance’s muscles shifting under his touch, muscle born from relentless training as a paladin.

How many more scars would Lance get as one?

“Are you okay?” Keith managed to ask on an exhale. His face was feeling hot, fingers lingering even after he was done securing new bandages.

“Yeah...it helps. The...thing. I mean.”

“The ointment.”

Lance tilted his head, but Keith thought his ears looked pink. “Yeah. That,” he whispered. Though Keith had stopped brushing the salve on, Lance wasn’t recoiling away. His back was pressed against the point of contact of Keith’s hand, hot to the touch.

Lance rolled his shoulders and stuck out his chest. "Huh. You're not too bad at this."

"I've done it before."

Lance’s head glanced over his shoulder, finding Keith’s gaze. Keith didn’t know how long they held on, but he thought he might suffocated under the weight of the silence between them.

Then, Lance’s lip twitched. “How does it look?” he asked. His voice sounded different.

Keith shook his head, not understanding.

“The scar. Is it sexy?”

“Oh.” Keith lowered his hand. He didn’t think he was qualified to provide any commentary on sexiness. When he had looked at the trauma of Lance’s back, he did feel things. None of them and ‘sexy’ seemed to pair up.

“Sure,” he said, turning away fast. “I’m sure all the people you flirt with would love to talk to it.”

“Hey, what’s with the attitude?”

Keith didn’t want to look at him. He reached for a towel to wipe his hands, more aggressively than necessary. Like he could scrub the feeling of having wanted to rest his hands on Lance’s chest when he was wrapping the bandages. “I don’t have an attitude.”

“You totally do.”

Keith grunted, shoving himself onto one side of the bed, back facing Lance. It would have been better to get up and put as much space between them as they could, but his legs felt unsteady as much as, well, everything felt.

“I’m just a little tired,” he said as an excuse. It wasn’t a total lie. His sleep from the day before had been nonexistent, and the arrival on Laranta had rattled him far more than he’d expected. Keith functioned on a simple basis, and there was nothing simple about his current predicament.

“Keith.”

“What?”

“You’re a shitty liar.”

Keith rolled over to retort, and found Lance shrugging back into his clothes. Something about the way he did it looked kind of...well, maybe ‘sexy’ was the word Keith looked for now. Wasn’t it usually the clothes coming off that made that happen?

“What are you doing?” Keith asked. It was partly aimed at his distracted mind.

“What does it look like? Going to work on my leg now while you eat and power nap.”

“While I what?”

Lance peered at him, then looked away before they locked eyes too long again. “I mean, now’s the time to replenish.” He crossed the room and returned with the bowl from before that was filled with berries. They looked like the ones from the moon.

“You’ll be less of a diva if you eat,” and before Keith could argue, he added louder, “ _and_ you’ll need the energy.” He thrust the bowl closer.

“And you don’t?” Keith asked.

“Princesses first.”

Keith glowered up at him. Lance only arched one brow in expectation. With a sigh, Keith reached forward. The memory of sharing a fire with Lance, picking berries out of his palm and then flinging them at his head at the village, rushed back. 

“Thanks,” he said, taking the bowl. It felt heavy on his lap. 

"Are you just going to stare at them?"

"I was thinking maybe these came from the moon. Rodi said they harvested and delivered stuff to the troopers. Maybe they bring things here."

"Maybe..." 

Keith picked a few berries, popped them into his mouth.

They didn’t taste as sweet.

**-x-**

 

The monarch was an alien with age wrinkling the blue skin around her dark eyes, and probably no taller than Keith’s hips. With Marik behind her, she downright looked puny. Still, she cultivated an aura that Keith studied and tried to mirror, from the length of her neck held high as she had stepped into their room to the reserved way she gestured.

The entourage that waited obediently for her outside the doors didn't exactly hurt either.

“I am deeply sorry for the loss of your crew,” she said after the greeting, voice high but assured. "It is fate you stand before me, and we're all relieved. I take it you’ve been attended to well upon your arrival.”

“Yes. Your hospitality is...appreciated,” Keith said. He swore he could feel Lance smirking at the back of his head at all this. “I hope you will be able to help my people.”

“Of course. We hope for the same. Though it seems you’ve experienced some of our own troubles.”

Keith’s attention flared up. “The ones that shot us down?”

Her eyes thinned. “Quite. We are a peaceful galaxy, not out of Zarkon’s touch.” Her tone sounded more clipped there, but Keith couldn’t be sure. “Mercenaries and pirates threaten the edges of our galaxy.”

Mercenaries. Keith found that a little too vague for his liking.

“They work for for the Galra?” Keith asked.

“They work for coin. We don’t exactly have an infinite supply of it to keep them away. Sometimes force is necessary. It is a tact we do not prefer, but have the capacity for.”

Keith wanted to see what Lance thought about that. So whatever mercenaries that had fired at them met their end by military action.

“So you have militia on the borders of the galaxy,” Lance said.

The monarch’s attention stayed on Keith as she answered. “Patrols, yes, and it was fate, like I said, to have one so near to take out those that almost killed you. Though it pains me they could not reach you in time to rescue you sooner.”

Keith felt like they were pushing their luck with questions. “No, they saved us. We should thank them for it.”

“Your gratitude is noted, Your Eminence.”

Suddenly, Lance cleared his throat. Both the monarch and Marik looked over to him.

Lance stared back at them. “Apologies,” he said, touching his throat. “Just a little dry throat. Your beauty has left me parched, Your Majesty.”

She smiled, and Keith certainly hoped that of all times for someone to buy Lance’s line, it would be now.  

“Charming,” she said, “but of the same likeness, let us talk of good things now. I apologize for my lack of availability, but we can discuss more tonight. I would like you to get a feel for what Laranta, what our galaxy can provide for your recently freed people.”

“Thank you,” Keith said.

“And I’ve heard the whispers of just how your people came to this freedom,” the monarch said. Her eyes, old as she seemed, were keen. Keith was sure he felt goosebumps dotting his arms.

“Oh…”

“You must tell me the tale of what is no longer a legend it seems,” she said, “this...Voltron.”

Keith’s heart jumped. He forced his nerves back in order.

“Of course,” she said, her tone lighter now, “at a later time. You’ve earned food, rest, and the pleasures of what our planet.”

Keith swallowed. “We would really appreciate that.” Hadn’t he used that word already?

“Wonderful. I greatly look forward to our two worlds’ new relationship,” she said, touching the center of her chest before bowing her head. Keith thought it polite to reciprocate the motion. “My right hand will take great care of you.” She tilted her head barely, but it was enough for Marik to come closer.

“What?” Lance blurted out. “This guy?”

“Thank you again,” Keith said, loudly, and curtly to shut Lance up. “That’s more than we can even ask, after you’ve already agreed to meet with me.”

“It was a risk for you to come, we understand and respect that. Your home is not safe from the Galra for long. Yours is the first we hope to alliance with outside our galaxy with the goal of creating a union against Zarkon.” She gave a hint of a smile. “Now is ill a time to rush. Marik will ensure your experience will solidify a union between us. Until tonight.”

She gave her bow, and Keith figured he should do the same. The moment she stepped out, attendants trailed after her. Keith didn’t think all the training in the world could put him on the same pedestal as her.

“Your Eminence,” Marik said. Keith snapped out of his thoughts. “If we begin now, there will be ample time for you to prepare for tonight.”

“Prepare?”

“Yes. It is the second night of the festivities, of a total of four.”

Keith wanted to give a big old ‘ummmm’. It must have shown on his face because Marik laughed gently.

“I will be happy to explain. Shall I prepare a tour for you now then, Your Eminence? I shall tell you all about it then, including the four dances.”

“Yes, we’ll, er,” Keith gestured toward the large doors of his and Lance’s room.

“We will meet you outside when we’re ready,” Lance said.

Only after Keith confirmed that comment did Marik bid them temporary leave. Keith wanted to double over again once the doors closed. All the food and naps in the galaxies couldn’t lift this weight on his shoulders it seemed.

He kept his back straight and came closer to Lance, waiting.

“Pidge,” Lance whispered, “can you hear me? Coast’s clear for us both.”

**“Good. I figured Keith’s got his ears busy listening to, well, whatever it is he has to listen to. Thrilling stuff, I’m sure.”**

“Something about festivals,” Keith said. “And a tour. We met the monarch.”

**"And?"**

"She's a piece of work," Lance said. "We didn't get to talk much, but she seemed interested in talking deals with Keith."

**“Sounds like you're making progress. I filled the others in. Shiro and Allura are making rounds right now. They’re picking up all the intel they can.”**

“Anything good?” Lance asked. “At this point I’d take the locations of some hotties.”

**“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you about them. Keep it in your pants for the sake of the universe, remember?”**

“What’s in Lance’s pants is the least of our concerns right now, guys,” Keith said.

**“Or lack thereof.”**

“Hey!”

Keith’s mouth twitched.

**“Shut up and listen, Lance. I need you guys to focus on this tour of yours. I think it would be safer to find a place to rendezvous instead of opening up all connections on an unreliable network.”**

“I’m plenty focused,” Lance said, with a little more whine. His ego must still be recovering. “More focused than Mr. Huge-and-Pompous.”

**“Who's that?”**

“It's our guide. How are we going to really scope anything out when he’s making goo-goo eyes at Keith and following him?”

“Goo-goo eyes?”

Lance looked right at him. “Please, like you can’t tell.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He totally wants to bang you.”

Keith blinked, one eyebrow going up.

Lance groaned and pointed at him. “It means he wants to get you in _bed_.”

Keith’s eyes bulged.

“You know? To have _sex_.”

Keith’s mouth dropped open. “ _What?”_

“He. Wants. To. Fu--”

**“I think he gets it, Lance. Stop. Also, gross. I only got a little time here, okay? Focus.”**

Lance huffed. He wasn’t smiling. “Yeah, yeah. Still, my question is valid.”

**“What question? You could sneak out of Galaxy Garrison on lockdown. I’m pretty sure you can handle a big, pompous alien that wants to get with Keith.”**

Keith moaned, burying his face in one hand.

“You also said that sneaking out thing wasn’t a compliment,” Lance said.

**“But it’s resourceful nonetheless."**

Lance pulled a face like Pidge could see it.

**“Don’t even give me that face.”**

It dropped. Lance blinked rapidly. “Uh, how did you--”

**“We’re paladins. Bonded and all that crap. I know things.”**

Keith gawked at Lance, sharing a look that confirmed Pidge was smart in the scary kind of way.

“Then you’ll know how to figure out what’s causing hiccups in our connections,” Lance said.

Keith wanted to elbow him. He settled for a glare and said, “Pidge, then can we ask you to pass a question along to Allura and Shiro? Can you ask them if they pick up any feelings of energy or something?”

**“Energy?”**

“I’m not sure how to describe it.”

“It could be the planet’s internal power,” Lance said with a shrug. “Our Princess felt traces of it on the moon.”

**“Allura did?”**

“No, Keith.”

**“I thought he was a marquees.”**

“The _point_ ,” Keith interjected, “is that I’m just curious if anyone else feels it. Or if you pick anything up.”

**“Mystical energy. Right. Just one more thing to add to the list.”**

“Thanks, Pidge.”

Pidge kind of chuckled, but Keith didn’t get why.

**“I got to go again. Try and stay out of trouble.”**

“Me? Trouble?” Lance shook his head. “Never.”

**“Riiight.”**

“Hey, Pidge."

**“What, Lance?”**

“...Be careful.”

**“Yeah. You two. Talk soon.”**

The line ended with an audible kind of silence. Keith didn’t get the intricacies of how networks weaved into transmissions or what exactly had to happen to disrupt them. All he knew was his gut telling him it couldn’t be good things.

Beside him, Lance exhaled and gave a careful stretch.

“Okay,” he said. “No pressure at all on us right now, huh?”

Keith eyed him, arms crossed. He hadn’t let go of that nonsense Lance spewed on about Marik. Not that he had the mind to bring it up now before they had to see said Mr. Huge and Pompous. “Yeah. None at all.”

“Hey,” Lance said, walking toward the doors, “at least we get to party a little.”

Keith couldn’t understand the way Lance’s mind worked, riding the tides of whatever ridiculousness came upon them. He understood less how, in the midst of an operation, he could look so regenerated at the idea of a good time.

“I mean," Lance continued, "for the sake of the mission and all. But still, _a party_. Food, and drinks, and dancing, and--Hey. Hello? Are you listening to me, Princess?”

“Dancing?”

Lance’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah. Dancing. You know what that is, don’t you?”

“I know what it _is_.”

“So then?”

Keith found the marble floor to be very fascinating about now. “It’s another matter of...doing it.”

“Dancing.”

“...Yeah.”

“You don’t know how to dance.”

Keith shrugged one shoulder.

“Like, at all?”

“No.”

“Really?”

Keith’s eyes bounced back up to pinpoint Lance with a hard stare. “ _No_.”

“Geez, relax.” Lance gave him a once over. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t know why that surprised me. Good piloting doesn’t necessarily translate to good moves.”

“Good thing, because then you’d be a disaster at it.”

Lance frowned deep at him. “You’re being awfully ungrateful to the guy that’s going to save you from embarrassment.”

“What?”

Lance grinned, sweeping his arm in a wide motion. “With my arm around anyone, they would look like a pro on the dance floor. Trust me.”

“Okay.”

Lance’s expression fell, leaving his eyes big and jaw open. “Uh...what?”

Keith uncrossed his arms. “I’ll trust you. When it comes to parties and dancing, or anything like that, I don’t know much about them.”

Some sounds stuttered off Lance’s tongue. He straightened fast and coughed before shaking his head rapidly. “No, right. Right. Of course. Leave it,” he breathed in, “leave it to me.”

Keith nodded.

Lance licked his lips. “We should...probably get that tour going then.”

They left the sacred privacy of their room, the air tangible between them again. Keith didn’t have the indulgence of time to think on what Lance said, or what would come of it tonight. Yet in a corner of Keith’s mind that always had room (for his temper, usually), he did think about it. Most of all, he thought about Lance’s arm around him again.

Only this time, it was there for a very different reason.

 

**-X-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh I struggled not to overwhelm this chapter with all the new things going on but still wanting to capture Keith’s overwhelm-ness of it all too. Same with OCs, which are just there to give substance and connect the space boys with the plot. I don’t want them to be the focus so let me know if you think I’m failing. 
> 
> Finally picking up some action though for the next chapter.
> 
> Thanks so, so much for the previous comments. They helped me so much! Do let me know your thoughts, please!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all don't get how grateful I am for the continuous feedback (cries at your feet)

 

Lance was not a jealous type.

Sure, okay, he’d had his fair share of _incidents_ that prompted someone in his family (or more recently, Hunk) to say otherwise. But those had all been in the realm of reason, even the ones that stuck with him in memory. Coincidentally, said stuck ones revolved around Keith, back before he’d been booted from the garrison (but come on, Lance was a great pilot too? With better hair? So why had it been only Keith’s name on people’s lips?).

But, again, that hadn’t been _jealousy_.

So why was Lance doubting what he felt right now, tagging behind Keith and their guide (a.k.a. Mr. Big and Pompous). There eventual descent into the market district had been a rush of sensory overload. Sweets permeated the air when it wasn’t spices, and something delicious was always sizzling, punctuated by the beckonings of their vendors.

Lance paid more attention, however, on how close Marik stood beside Keith, or laid a paw on his back to guide him through the bustle. Or leaned in to hear Keith say something, smiled down at Keith as he explained the trades or talked about the dances and current celebrations honoring the natural elements of the universe (not exactly original but whatever). Today was fire, noted by the heavy use of red flags and vendors’ tents. 

Lance swore he could feel Hunk calling his feelings out right about now. Just as vividly as he could still feel Keith’s hands on his back, around his chest.

Suspicion. That’s what Lance settled on. He might not have the best instincts (can’t be too perfect, right?), but they had gotten him out of plenty of tight spaces enough time to warrant this tug he was feeling in his gut and chest.

It told him not to trust Marik one bit.

From the terraces of the citadel (where flowers as dark as Keith’s eyes grew) to the high views of floating towers, the distance between Keith and Marik had been closing. That, Lance was sure of. Now, finally at the heart of Laranta’s markets, Marik was downright cozy strolling alongside Voltron’s latest Princess.

Lance muttered a foul word in his mother’s language. It didn’t help matters that upon learning of Lance’s recent injuries, Marik had suggested a medic could tend to him the rest of the day. When Lance refused, Marik had then supplied him with coin to go and purchase what he wished from the markets. To Lance, it was the equivalent of this guy trying to get rid of him.

In the past, the temptation might have been there. The markets were all noise, colors, and smells. Each one a delight to Lance’s senses, but stray he did not. He watched Marik’s back like a hawk when he wasn’t scanning over the sudden burst of activity.

There were aliens of all sorts, some Lance hadn’t even seen yet. Short, wide, thin, tall, some with many limbs, others buried in layers of strange clothing. It was an eclectic collection of creatures and commodities that Lance had a hard time keeping up with. He wondered if Shiro and Allura were among them.

And, well, there was Keith.

He stood out in his own way, but the local vendors seemed to recognize Marik. No one approached them recklessly, and Lance rather it had been a side effect of his being there and not the big alien shadowing Keith. 

Lance hadn't miss the way Keith had stopped on the terraces to study the flowers. They had looked like ones from the moon, only Lance found these less beautiful than their wild counterparts. And when they’d visited the towers, Keith had peered over the edge, the makings of a smile in his gaze as the winds buffeted against him. Lance had gripped onto the ends of his robe as a precaution, but might have leaned over too.

In the markets now, he saw Keith’s eyes linger on a collection of fine daggers with curved blades, and then there was the way he gravitated toward a display of hovercrafts that were made for speed.

Lance had to be kind of impressed that Keith reserved reaching out to touch either of them. When Marik coaxed Keith to a stall with heavy silk, Lance quickly purchased one of the small knives. A red hilted one he managed to tuck away into his boot, where a small pouch from an earlier purchase was also hidden.

He really did have a knack for sneaky things, didn’t he?

“Lance?”

Lance straightened and stepped up to Keith’s side. “What’s up?” He had to lean close to hear Keith over everything else. A strand of Keith’s hair tickled his ear.

“His Eminence is reluctant to accept a tailored garment for the evening,” Marik said, and Lance was really tempted to tell him to butt out.

Keith cast him a side-glance that read: ummm?

“What’s wrong with what he’s wearing now?” Lance asked, ticking his eyes over Keith’s head to look at Marik. The guy’s eyes were so dark and face set that he couldn’t really tell what Marik was thinking.

“Nothing, of course. However, I thought His Eminence might enjoy trying the finest fabrics we can offer, if only for the celebrations.”

Lance prickled. He glanced over at the merchant who started pitching how extravagant his cloths were, how his sons had to risk pirates each trip to obtain them.

“Is that so,” Lance said, not really an answer to either the merchant or Marik. He had the mind to encourage Keith to shut their guide down. To the vendor, he asked, “What’s your most expensive stuff?” At the vendor’s gesture, Lance reached out and felt the material. It was of a deep red, like stroking the petals of a rose.

“This one,” he said, smirking at Marik. “You got the payment covered, right, big guy?”

Marik held his gaze for a tick. “Of course. If that’s what His Eminence desires.”

Keith looked at Lance like he was crazy. “Uh...yes. That one. Thank you, Marik.”

Lance just smiled big at him. Then, as Marik discussed the logistics with the vendor of having the right amount of silks brought to the citadel, Lance spoke under his breath so only Keith could hear.

“He sure likes to talk to you.”

“I don’t think anything useful so far though," Keith said.

“Try asking him more questions.”

“All on me, huh?”

“You are his favorite,” Lance said.

“That’s not how you worded it last time.” Keith frowned, rubbing his temple. His eyebrows furrowed.

Lance hesitated. “...How’s your head?”

“Fine. Your back?"

"Fine."

"Leg?”

“ _Fine_. But I meant how you holding up.”

“Oh. Like I’m not going to much longer?”

Lance snuck a peek at Marik and thought better to ask if Keith felt any more energy-vibes. “Well, suck it up. At least you look good.”

Keith blinked. “I...do?”

It hadn’t really been what Lance meant to say. He blinked back. “Er, yeah. I mean, I guess.”

Keith’s lip twitched. “Thanks.”

Lance relaxed. They were still really close. With Marik guiding them around, Lance didn’t get to stand by Keith as he normally did. It was weird, but he didn’t know why it was weird.

“Is everything alright?” Marik asked, suddenly looming over them both.

Lance came to attention fast. “We were talking. Why wouldn’t everything be-”

“I’m a little tired is all,” Keith cut in. “I’m not use to this much...activity.” Then, he lowered his gaze so perfectly docile that Lance almost applauded him for it. “Maybe we can go somewhere private, for a little.”

Marik bought it, offering apologies. “Our capital’s temple is closest. I had hoped to show it at a later time, but it may be a place to revitalize Your Eminence.”

A temple. Lance perked up at the sound of that. _Finally_ something with more promise. Old places held history, and sometimes secrets.

They could use a bit of both about now.

The route to it, like many places of Laranta, gradually brought them skyward once more. The crowds thinned down to just them by the time they took a path of bright pebbles upward, right into the thick of clouds. The higher they went, Lance began to hear water.

"Are we there yet?" Lance asked. His leg was feeling cramped.

"If you're tired already--"

"Just keep walking." Lance marched faster.

Then, they cleared through the nebulous at last, stepping onto the platform of a small, floating island. Its body hung several stories deep, layered by vines. At the center of the island, the temple stood in, well...humble glory?

“This is it?” Lance asked.

Keith shot him a look. Lance only shrugged. Was he wrong to expect something a little more extravagant given the capital’s propensity for colors and diversity?

“This is a very old, and sacred place,” Marik said, like that somehow made its lackluster walls forgivable. There was at least the dribbling of a waterfall that spilled over the sides and into streams down below. That was kind of cool.

“No, sure, yeah,” Lance said, dragging his eyes over it. It wasn’t even as big as others they’d seen today. “I mean...but it is a little...less impressive than other buildings and towers.”

And no guards. Something sacred needed protecting, didn’t it? Then again the temple didn’t exactly flaunt the potential for treasure. 

“You don’t need to come in if you prefer to wait outside,” Marik said.

Lance felt his hair rise up on the back of his neck. He made a face at Marik’s back and walked a little tighter to Keith’s heels.

Inside though, Lance had to give more credit. Smaller than the citadel the temple was, it held an aura that left Lance a little breathless. A faint chill swept over him, calm and light like a breeze, the temple full of something important even though it was quiet. Even their footsteps barely echoed.

In front of him, Lance could tell Keith reacted to it too.

Marik was talking about its construction, of the pilgrimages people of the galaxy took to it. Lance kept one ear trained on him as he strolled the perimeter. The walls were bare of reliefs or designs, but small balusters were fixed to various points, holding spheres. Within them, white tendrils floated, casting weak glows of light.

Lance got more chills the longer he looked at one. He decided not to get too close to them.

“What’s this a temple for exactly?” Keith asked. Lance looked back over at him.

“It pays tribute to the spirit that created Laranta, which then became the heart of this galaxy.”

Keith’s nose did this little wrinkle thing (okay, kind of cute). Marik must have caught it because he gave a little, deep chuckle. Ugh.

“Though,” Marik went on, “I suppose that sounds a little romantic, doesn’t it?”

“Is it true?” Keith asked.

“Quite the profound question,” Marik said. “Some take comfort in knowing an omnipotent force cares for us, and others have faith in the idea of a greater power.”

“Huh.” Keith’s attention was straying off Marik and to the deepest point of the temple where an alcove was. There, on an altar, the biggest sphere pulsed its weak light.

Lance studied the way Keith began drifting to the alcove. “So why is this place so empty? Pirates stealing all the faith lately?”

Marik barely spared him a look. “The temple will be full on the last day of the tributes, where we celebrate the spirit.”

Spirit. Element. Lance didn’t particularly care what the name for anything meant, only if it prompted them in the right direction. Speaking of direction, Keith continued his approach to the sphere, having gone weirdly silent.

“Hey, big guy,” Lance called out to Marik, “why don’t you call over that private hovercraft to take us back soon. Make sure it’s filled with some sweets.”

Marik’s ears went up. “Pardon?”

“In fact, make sure it’s piled up with some food from the markets in there for us to take back, yeah? I know it’d make His Eminence’s day,” Lance said, speed walking after Keith. From behind him, he heard Marik make a little sighing sound but then make the call.

Lance hissed at Keith. He was ignored. He caught up in time for Keith to stop in front of the glass globe. The white flame flickered. Keith’s eyes looked unfocused. Lance held his breath.

 _Don’t touch it_. Lance wanted to scream it.

Suddenly, stupidly, Keith reached out. Lance reacted and caught his hand in mid-air.  

Keith’s eyes jumped up, aware of himself again.

Swallowing hard, Lance gave a tiny shake of his head. Though Marik hadn’t said anything about touching these flames, Lance’s instinct said plenty.

“Hey, are you okay?” he whispered.

Keith blinked rapidly, like he had to remember where he was with a look around himself. “Uh...yeah. Just a little dizzy.”

“We should head back,” Lance said. "I don't think there's anything here for us."

Keith’s fingers twitched in his grip, and only then Lance realized they hadn’t let go. It was weird all over again, seeing Keith’s hand free of his glove. There were no barriers between their skin, and somehow this felt more intimate than when Keith had been touching his back.

Lance wanted to and didn’t want to let go.

It was a realization that sort of scared him. Scared him more than Keith touching these things.

Carefully, as if giving back something precious, Lance slipped his hand from Keith’s.

Their private craft gave them a lift, and the ride back was quiet in a tense way. Lance scanned the city as it rolled past them, trying to memorize the path they took. One particular edifice stood out in the distance, enclosed by gates tall as five men and polished white.

“What’s that?” Lance asked, pointing.

“Where those who wish to join our fight against the Galra devote their lives to. Our militia. It is not an appropriate place for His Eminence to visit.”

Of course not, Lance thought, leaning back. He took a brief look at Keith, found him a little gray in the face.

“Just tired,” Keith said when he caught Lance looking.

Lance had to believe him for now. He felt their knees bump, saw Keith’s hand close to his. Lance looked back out the window and crossed his arms.

Because if he didn’t, he would feel the urge to touch Keith’s hand again.

 

**-x-**

 

“Pidge, it’s not like we’re not trying over here. I mean, we just got here.”

**“Are you stuffing your face right now while talking to me?”**

Lance stopped in mid-chew, swallowed as quietly as he could, then said, “Even escorts gotta eat. We’ve been walking around _all_ day.”

**“Poor baby.”**

“Pfft. You come down here and see if it’s so easy,” Lance said.

**“Ah, yes, because of Mr. Big and Pompous.”**

“He’s not pompous,” Keith added. He hadn’t eaten much himself, instead loitering by the tank. He hadn’t even sat down since they got back.

Lance rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I got a couple of things I want to check out. We saw a temple today though."

**"And?"**

"I don't know. It might be worth going back to on my own once you get your tech working."

**"It _is_ working. It's just something is jamming me up. I'm getting there."**

Lance couldn't help smile at Pidge's annoyed tone. "Right, well, until then, we might get something tonight. There’s some big party.”

**“So I’ve heard. Guess a good way to show a good time to prospective alliance-makers is to invite them when a party is going on.”**

“Doesn’t exactly mask the whole pirate-mercenaries trying to shoot you down thing.”

**“Not even close."**

"How are the others?"

**"I haven't contacted anyone besides Coran since the last we talked. He and Hunk are still outside the galaxy. I've been working on these damn connections."**

"Seen or hear anything where you at then?"

**"No, and I'd like it to stay that way."**

"Must be nice."

**"Hope you survive the terrors of free food and other luxuries.”**

Lance set aside his food and shoved off the couch. “Yeah, yeah. Talk soon.” Leaning into a stretch, Lance tested out the pull on his back. “Always the cheery guy, aren’t they?”

Keith stared on into the tank.

“Hey.” Lance marched over to get a view of the other’s profile. “What’s up with you? You've barely said anything.”

Keith finally registered him, surprised. He shrugged it off and focused back on the water. “Sorry. My mind’s still kind of, I don’t know. Fuzzy feeling. I think it was a lot today.”

“You haven’t even eaten. I thought you were ready to keel over.”

Keith grumbled. “You...didn’t feel it?”

“I’m guessing you’re talking about the energy again.”

“I don’t know. I thought I was feeling it more around the temple. Now I’m not sure. It’s, uh, hard to explain.”

Lance gave him a once-over, then sighed. “Well, places like that can have old kinds of energy, right?"

“I guess.” Keith hesitated. “Something just feels weird about this place. All of it I mean.”

Lance couldn’t disagree. Even though they’d landed on the right planet, he still felt something was off.

Keith groaned and dragged his hand through his hair, putting pieces back in their usual disarray. He stalked away, stepping to the floor-to-ceiling window in their room. With the curtains billowing aside, they had a view of the sky gone burnt from the sun’s descent. The moon, so much smaller this far, hung directly over them.

Lance soaked in the sight of Keith against that backdrop a moment before joining him. Keith wasn’t basking in the view or breeze. He shifted, glowering down.

“Keith,” Lance said, “chill. You’re getting worked up again. You were out being all flouncy and proper the whole damn morning and afternoon. It’s normal you feel out of it.”

Keith didn’t look convinced.

“Actually,” Lance said, remembering something. “I got you something that might help.”

He tried not to feel jittery at Keith’s attention on him as he balanced on his good leg, fishing out his second purchase of the day. He grinned and presented the dagger.

Keith gawked at it.

“It’s for you,” Lance said.

Keith said nothing.

"It's a present. I, ah, figure it’s okay you could have something now."

More silence.

"Dude, are you going take it or not?" 

Keith reached out, paused a breath, then accepted the blade into his hands. He tested the weight, curled his fingers around the hilt, smoothed his thumb over the sharp teeth delicately. “I, uh,” he trailed off, looking back at Lance, “no one’s really given me a gift before.”

Lance’s face felt swarmed by a hot wind. That, and a pang in his heart at something that sad. “Don’t make it sappy or anything. I’ll feel better knowing you got something on you that’s not just your bad attitude.”

“My attitude’s not bad.”

“Uh-huh. Again. Shitty liar.”

But Keith was smiling, fingers caressing the inlined details and gems. The gesture looked fond, and was hypnotic. Lance forced his gaze away, but the memory of those fingers burned hot against his back again.

Jesus.

“You’re right,” Keith said.

“Always. Uh, about what exactly?”

“I’m just getting worked up.” Keith stepped away and laid the dagger with care out of sight under a pillow. Then, and maybe because Lance wasn’t expecting it that it stunned him, he began fiddling with his robes.

“Um, _what_ are you doing?” Lance couldn’t tear his eyes away this time, not when Keith was shrugging out of the red fabric, the stretch of his neck exposed, the curve of his shoulders looking almost delicate against the material.

“Working out. We might not have a training deck, but we have a tank of water.”

Lance wasn’t completely listening. His sense of sight was overriding his hearing. Keith hadn’t been lying about Coran’s demand for detail. The same speckle of the pattern on his face swept down his neck and outlined the hint of his spine. A beautiful, long hint.

Lance shouldn’t have let his gaze wander. But it did. How couldn’t it? He loved the nice lines of a body, and Keith had the kind of lines Lance never noticed, and they were more than nice. His eyes followed Keith’s hands as they brushed the robes aside and went to work on what were--hold up--goddamn _stockings_. Straight up, didn’t matter what Coran called them, or what anyone else might have called them: Lance’s brain saw the dark fabric hugging the shapes of Keith’s legs up to his upper thighs and labeled them.

Stockings. Keith was wearing stockings.

Holy _shit_.

Keith was saying something. Lance’s brain was operating on a weak source of power, practically fried. Everything in his burned, fingers itching to just...just reach out and--

“Lance?”

Somehow, hearing Keith say his name reeled Lance back in. He blinked once, hard, and turned away on his heel. He coughed, forgetting how to breathe a terrible embarrassing second.

“So, yeah, while you do that,” he threw over his shoulder. “I, uh, have something I need to do.”

“What, now?”

Lance blew out a hard breath as he fingered the hidden folds of his costume behind his neck. A few tugs and he got loose the perfect makings of a cowl to drape over his head. “Yup. Gotta make use of every time we can.”

“By doing what, exactly?” Keith asked.

“Snooping.” Lance tugged out the pouch and spilled some of its contents onto his bare hands. It had the same consistency of chalk, but the vendor had been selling all sorts of granular powders as tonics. The one Lance had bought for its consistency was, uh, for performance issues. Lance really hadn’t liked the sly look the vendor had given him when he’d handed over the goods. A few more seconds of watching Keith and Lance didn’t think he’d qualify as having any kind of performance issues.

This mission was seriously trying to shave layers off Lance’s psyche.

Calculating he had probably a good couple of hours, Lance chalked up his hands. It never felt harder to will his legs to walk away from Keith and to the balcony of their window.

Leaning forward, Lance peered up. Guess it’d have to do.

Behind him, Keith was hissing his name.

Lance flipped himself over the balcony, clinging to the railing. Bracing himself, he looked at Keith, more than half naked, shameless as ever, and god Lance really did want to bring that image with him.

Keith, however, was looking at him like he really had gotten crazy.

“What the hell are you doing?

“Uh, snooping?”

“Out the window?”

“When we were walking around those verandas, I could see these walls pretty well. There are grooves just perfect for climbing if you know what you’re doing.”

“That’s not the problem.”

“Well, I can’t go waltzing around wherever I want.”

“That’s not the problem either, Lance.”

“What is then?”

“Do you know what you’re doing? You could fall.”

Lance blew a raspberry. “Do I look like an amateur?”

“ _Lance_.”

“I’ll be back in time before the party. Trust me.”

“Lance…!”

Lance winked. “Don’t worry too much about me, Princess.”

With that, he leapt up.

He snagged hold of an outcropping of marble, crawled his way up and as far from their balcony as possible. Lance didn’t stop until he knew he was a good ways up and his feet felt secured on a ledge.

He breathed.

Okay.

So.

Keith was...kind of hot?

Realization wasn’t such a big realization. He’d heard plenty of the same thing from admirers back at the garrison, from guys too. Lance liked a good looking body. Keith’s body wasn’t bad. Hell, apparently dolling him up in some fine clothes with the right tailoring and it was a sight for sore eyes.

God, of all times for hormones to pick _Keith_ of all people.

Lance bumped his head against the cold exterior, gripped harder with his fingers. He sucked in more the cold air, inviting its bite to the parts of his face not concealed. He lingered just long enough to steady his breathing and realign his mind. The mission. The galaxy depended on them. His family was waiting for him to come home.

The remnants of his nightmares sobered him up enough to start climbing again.

During the tour, he had calculated how spaced apart the windows were, and found it easy enough to shimmy his way up, under, and around them. He gave a wide berth to some of the verandas, not risking being seen, but getting close enough to pick up sounds. When he was daring, he peeked.

No patrols marched the hallways of the upper levels. Guards were stationed intermittently. Lance estimated the location of the monarch’s bedroom by the heavier presence of said guards all the way in the east wing of the citadel.

He kept his position away from the front of the citadel, sticking to the cast shadows of its back and sides. He relied on floating slabs to cross the distance between towers and crouch silently when he heard footsteps on a lower level below.

It was kind of exciting, really. Memories of sneaking out of Galaxy Garrison made him miss hearing Hunk’s voice already. Being up so high made him miss Blue. He could feel her still, not really able to ‘talk’ to him, but he thought he could sense her longing too.

Maybe it was for the better. Lance had a feeling Blue would have opinions on his current, er, affliction regarding Keith.

Right. Back to climbing.

Lance felt like he was crabbing up walls and leaping off ledges for ages. He really gambled that they wouldn’t expect someone crazy enough to free-roam the citadel’s silhouette, and the fact that, prosperous as Laranta wanted to look, realistically it couldn’t be.

So when he heard a familiar voice, Lance didn’t count himself too lucky. Yet, anyway.

“...another attack?”

Lance knew Marik’s voice too well by now (unfortunate, right?). Edging closer, he settled down on the dome that marked another balcony. The window, Lance could tell, was open, but Marik and whoever he was talking to were inside.

“We need more to join the cause of the military,” the other voice was saying.

“There are only so many citizens we have. At least half are merchants and traders coming and going.”

“You should extend your cause beyond Laranta and to the rest of the galaxy.”

“We have,” Marik was saying, and Lance picked up his ire. So the guy could get mad. “But we’re not about to draft. That would defeat the purpose--”

“I didn’t come to hear your pretty excuses. You convince the monarch we need more bodies to deal with these blasted pirates. And for the usual.”

Lance crept closer. The usual? Huh.

Marik was quiet a moment before he said, “And if we cannot?”

“You know The Prince’s conditions. Do not disappoint him.”

Lance frowned, listening to one set of steps retreat. He filed through his brain, but couldn’t pick out anything referencing a prince. The monarch’s son?

Marik came into view below, stepping onto the patio with a deep breath. Lance instantly scooted back, but flattened out to spy on him. The guy looked a little frazzled, paws tight on the rail. When he decided not to talk to himself and reveal more key details, Lance considered he’d spent enough time in one spot.

At least, until Marik’s ears twitched. Lance held his breath, feeling his heart jump to his throat. But Marik’s attention went behind him, where he called, “Enter.”

“We have the garments prepared for His Eminence,” a soft voice said.

“Oh. Yes. Excellent.” Marik straightened, and Lance ducked just before their guide’s gaze went up to the roof. 

Lance didn’t budge an inch, waiting until Marik’s steps and the woman’s were gone.

Phew. 

Then, because the opportunity was too great, Lance wiggled down. Inch by inch, he peaked upside down into what he confirmed was a private room. Marik’s probably. On quiet feet, Lance flipped over and landed down.

This was definitely way easier without Hunk hassling him about the consequences.

Lance paused at the window, hiding behind a curtain as he glanced around. Nice thing about the marble flooring is he could hear the steps of those beyond the door.

Lance came around, on light feet as he perused the room. Books of varying sizes were tucked neatly against one another on several lines of shelves. A few trinkets, and no hidden mechanism so far that would lead Lance right to what their mission brought them here for.

There was a desk though.

Lance crept to it. He waited, straining his ears for sounds. Better be quick; he rummaged until he came upon a collection of documents tucked into the last drawer. Lance flipped through, realizing he couldn’t read any of the alien gibberish.

Graphs, though, he thought might be better. What did a guy like Marik need graphs for? It didn’t look like it related to currency. 

“Interesting,” Lance whispered under his breath, scoping around before settling on an idea. As quick but silent as he could, he located blank parchment in another drawer and copied the diagrams onto it.

Then, after slipping his paper into his clothes and putting everything back just as he’d seen it, Lance hightailed on out of there.

 

**-x-**

 

When Lance returned, Keith was (thankfully) fully-clothed.

“Lance!” Keith stomped right up into his personal space. “Jesus, you had me wondering what the hell happened to you.”

Lance stepped away from the balcony and dragged the windows closed behind him. “Were you worried about me?”

“Lance.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.” Keith closed his eyes, pressing a hand to his forehead. “You were gone nearly two hours.”

“It’s not like _you_ can be gone that long,” Lance said, freeing his face and tucking the fabric back behind his neck. His back was a little stiff and his fingers aching, but he hardly noticed them when he realized something else. “...Your clothes.”

Keith blinked and looked down. “Oh. Yeah. Marik just dropped off the uh...this,” he gestured to himself.

Lance ate up the new look. The seamstress had been more liberal with this new piece than Keith’s original robes. Lance could see the expanse of his neck, perfectly pale against the stark red of rich cloth. The sleeves of his traditional outfit had been stripped to a design that exposed part of his upper arm and shoulders, the rest of the fabric cinched above his elbow by a gold band.

The length was similar, and Lance could see Keith had stepped back into his, ah, stockings.

“Wow.” Lance didn’t know if he said that aloud. Somehow, the clothes made Keith look not just like royalty, but more out-of-this-world than any alien.

Keith pressed his lips together and glanced away.

“I mean,” Lance bit his tongue. What _did_ he mean? Lance didn’t think he knew.

“It’s a little too much,” Keith said.

“It’s perfect,” Lance said. He dared to come closer and appreciate the detailing. When Keith looked up at him again, Lance felt a surge of adrenaline greater than when he’d be clamoring up walls and windows.

“Well,” Keith shrugged and crossed his arms. “I told Marik we’d come down after the bell thing that he said would signal the celebration is starting.”

“Did he come in?”

“No, I said you were asleep so he wouldn’t come in and see you were not here and instead acting like a monkey. At least tell me you found something good.”

“Hey--” Lance’s protest was washed out by the chime of a bell.

Keith groaned. "That's it."

“Showtime it is," Lance said. He hurried to the adjacent room that housed their bath, finding it recently used. Lance stomped down on the image of what Keith looked like sinking back into the deep bath with nothing but the colors of the scales on his skin.

He was primped and cleaned up in record time, not a hair out of place.

“Took you long enough,” Keith said. “We’re going to be late.”

“Trust me. Fashionably late is what we want,” Lance said, aiming his smile at Keith.

“Is it?” Keith eyed him up and down. “Are you sure we can’t just stay. You haven’t even told me what you--”

“Ah-ah.” Lance raised a finger near Keith’s lips. It was herculean will that didn’t make him close the distance. His heart rate was going back up again. “It’s party time.” He gave a little bow, hand sweeping toward the door. “Shall we, Your Eminence?”

Keith didn’t look as enthusiastic. But he rolled his eyes, rolled back his shoulder, and exhaled.

“Alright."

Together, they left the smidgen of a sanctuary they had here. The walk down the hallway, periodically stationed with a guard, and the descent to the lowest level had Lance’s nerves burning. Maybe it was part of the high from scaling rooftops that his senses felt on alert. He was definitely a little excited.

A new kind of noise washed over them when they arrived. Revelry was underway in the clink of glasses, the laughter and chatter, and overall vibes of good moods. Lance could hear musicians drumming and banging out a rhythm of celebrations.

Beside him, Keith stood very close.

“Now this is a party,” Lance said, taking the lead in guiding them through several guards. Their presence was heavier here, on the edges of the festivities. 

“You could pretend to sound like you’re taking this seriously,” Keith whispered.

“I take parties very seriously,” Lance said, not hating how much closer Keith got the deeper they stepped in.

Party it was, but for of a higher caliber. Lance saw it in the gems and silks hanging off alien limbs and hair. One he even saw adorned with a red veil across her face. Lance could smell their pedigree in their delicate perfumes and the way they held their glasses. Lance didn’t think just anyone could waltz into this.

“Your Eminence!”

They’d barely gotten their footing past the border of where the fun started when several aliens approached them, as if having been waiting for them. Lance instinctively put his hand in front of Keith, but the aliens, he found, were parched for gossip.

“By my grandmother’s blessed eye, you truly are here,” one alien said. “I made the trip from my planet just to lay eyes on the poor dears that survived Zarkon’s enslavement.”

“Unharmed by the looks of it,” another said. “We’ve heard tales of the Galra.”

“Such _terrible_ things, like taking limbs for trophies. Is it true?”

“Do they make you perform in battles to the death for their pleasure?”

“Will your people come to live among us? It would be economically beneficial.”

“I heard rumors Zarkon will hunt those that escape his fist. What if he comes here looking for His Eminence?”

Lance cringed internally. Sneaking a peek at Keith, he found the Red Paladin practically suffocated by their attention, let alone bombardment of questions.

“Please, please,” Lance raised his voice, offering both hands up, “we are so flattered the likes of your...pedigree would want to know about us.”

Lance breathed a little easier when the aliens’ faces brightened at his compliments.

“His Eminence would love to detail his story,” Lance went on, “but, uh, a little drink might be okay first? You know, a looser tongue gives up more information.”

The aliens shared a round of giggles.

“Actually, His Eminence is here for a greater purpose than gossip, I am afraid.” Marik’s voice resonated through the small crowd. Then, his form loomed over the aliens' daintier ones. They made way for him. “Perhaps we could show how hospitable we are as a galaxy to convince the likes of His Eminence to stay, yes?”

Lance watched as the aliens straightened like they’d accepted an important task. A few, nice words to Keith and Lance, and they dispersed. Just like that.

“They are harmless, but very curious,” Marik said when they had breathing room again.

Lance look unimpressed by Marik’s getup. Nor was he liking the way his gaze always stayed a little longer than necessary on Keith. “Right. I had it covered, you know.”

“Of course,” Marik said. Ass. He wasn’t even looking at Lance now, all ga-ga over Keith’s new attire. “It looks splendid on you. Do you like it?”

“It’s...nice.” Keith must have realized that didn’t sound very polite and backtracked. “I mean, yes. Thank you.”

Keith hesitated before following Marik as the alien guided them through the grand room. There were archways that spilled the party out into the gardens, but the bulk of the attendants were inside. Servants in drab black outfits balanced various trays with delicacies.

From one of them, Marik plucked a drink and offered it to Keith.

Lance snatched it from him, sniffing it. Not like he’d knew what a drugged drink would smell like but it was the principle of the thing.

“Is something wrong?” Marik asked.

Lance took a sip. His eyes brightened. He took another sip before palming it off to Keith. “Just being cautious.”

“You’d think I’d poison His Eminence?” Marik actually sounded a little offended. Good.

Keith shoved Lance’s chest slightly when he’d gotten a little too close to Marik. “He’s just doing his job. I guess.” Keith gave him a hard side-look before testing the drink himself. He licked his lips. Lance really wish he hadn't. “This is good.”

“It’s made of our most delectable berries.” To Lance, Marik added, “and not common in attempts at poison. The flavors make it difficult to mask drugs.”

“Interesting you know that,” Lance said.

“It’s my business to know things.”

“I bet it is.” Lance thought back to the graphs, but wasn’t about to show his hand so carelessly. As the strolled along, he said, “So, you've told us a lot about Laranta. Tell us how much do you know about us. You know, where we come from. That sort of thing.”

Marik arched a heavy brow at him. He glanced at Keith, saying “Well, there is not much at the present. Our communications with your planet only returned recently. It is almost impossibly to reach outside of our galaxy with the Galra colonizing all others.”

“Do you worry yours is next?” Lance asked, ignoring the little jab Keith gave into his side.

Marik frowned. “We’re not immune to the Galra.”

“Seems kind of immune to me,” Lance said. He added, more lighthearted, “Which is good, right? We don’t exactly want any kind of alliance with someone about to get jumped by Zarkon.”

Marik was looking at him now, gaze level. “...No, I suppose not.”

“He _means_ ,” Keith said, loud and with another prod to Lance’s side (harder this time), “that we’re reluctant to think anyone’s safe anymore. And we don’t have a military force. Maybe...it made us an easy target.”

“Your Eminence, there are other ways to fight than with brute force.”

“Is there really?” Keith asked. Lance noticed his grip on the glass was a little hard.

Marik’s ears flattened. “Yes, and I see the trauma of the Galra is a deep one. Please, Your Eminence, do not fear what happens tonight. It is okay to celebrate and take pleasures when one can.”

Keith lifted his head, as if he remembered who he was supposed to be playing as. “I...Yes. Right. I’m, er, sorry. We'll try to enjoy ourselves.”

Marik shook his head. His attention ticked over their heads as the music shifted. Lance looked back in time to see aliens scurrying onto the center of the polished floors. They began to dance. Lance watched their feet (limbs, tentacles, etc), then the rest of their varying body types. He hadn’t paid much attention to Marik’s ramblings about the significance of the dances. Some aliens conformed to a particular set of steps and spins, while others took a less conservative approach.

“Your Eminence,” Marik said, facing Keith. “A dance, perhaps?”

“Uh..."

“We believe it good for the soul. I could--”

“Yes,” Lance said quickly, “best idea you’ve had yet, big guy.” He pried the glass from Keith’s hand and gave it to Marik. “Thanks,” he added, not meaning it.

Lance had been sort of joking about the dancing thing earlier. Squeezing Keith’s hand in his own as he hauled him away from Marik and into the fray, he wasn’t sure anymore.

“What the _hell_ are you doing?” Keith knew at least to keep his voice low.

There was just enough room for a little bubble of privacy around them. Lance stopped at a vacant spot, facing Keith. “Didn’t you say you’d trust me?”

“Yeah.”

“So?”

“So _what?_ ”

“Do you trust me?”

Keith opened his mouth, closed it. Then, he said on an exhale, “Yes.”

Lance nodded. “Um,” he hesitated for a heartbeat, heart taking tiny leaps up his chest as his brain tried to process what he was doing. His body moved ahead of him, a hand taking Keith’s waist like he should have done ages ago. He memorized the feeling right away.

Crazily, Keith’s hands tried to do something similar. They hung in the air, unsure. Lance guided them onto him. A hand on his bicep, another against his own hand like he’d seen the aliens doing. They never broke eye contact.

Keith held onto him, eyes a little wide. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” Keith said. It didn’t sound as confident as he usually did.

“Me neither.” Lance, all nerves and blood pulsing, couldn’t help a smile. He gave Keith a yank closer, and started moving.

Keith faltered after him, eyes dropping down to see what his feet were doing. "Feels like you know what you're doing."

“Stop,” Lance said.

“Stop what?”

“Let me lead.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means, let go and actually trust me.” 

Keith narrowed his eyes up at him. The effect was kind of lost when he was struggling to figure out what to do with this dancing stuff. Lance almost laughed. He felt downright giddy even.

“Think of it like a training exercise,” Lance said. "Remember when Cor-uh...when a certain mustache-alien had us do those trust exercises?"

"You almost dropped me."

"Almost. But I didn't. It's like that. Get it?"

“Oh.” It was just the ‘oh’ Lance hoped for. Gradually, Keith relaxed around him. Lance could feel it under his fingertips, the way Keith stopped resisting against the flow and instead leaned into which way Lance wanted him to.

“Like this?”

“Yeah,” Lance said, gazing down at him. His face felt warm. Keith kept staring up at him. “Just like this.”

They kept pace with the rest of the dancers. Lance felt plenty of eyes on them, but none mattered as the pair in front of him. Keith lacked the natural inclination to sway to music, but with Lance’s hands guiding him, you’d think he wasn’t so bad at it.

Keith swallowed hard. When he spoke, it wasn’t what Lance had hoped he’d want to say. “So?”

“Hm?”

“Aren’t you, you know,” Keith broke eye contact, spoke lower, “tell me what you found?”

Oh. Right. That.

Lance didn’t break the pattern of their dancing as he whispered the events of his sneaking, scanning the crowds now and then all the while. He would stop talking when he and Keith had to take small twirls or drift apart per the way the dance went. Lance started to understand Marik’s insistence for a different garment on Keith; this new one caught the momentum of their movements and rippled, like the burst of a flame.

“A prince?” Keith asked when Lance was finished. Their steps had slowed, the music petering down.

“If a prince was going to show up, I’d think it’d be on one of these nights,” Lance said, sneaking looks as if he could pinpoint said prince among the attendees. “If he’s here, he’s not standing out. But if these pirates are attacking more, maybe he won't show up?”

“Maybe. What are you going to do with the charts you drew?”

“I don’t know,” Lance whispered. “Hoping I can get them to Shiro and see if he can pass them back to Hunk. If anyone can figure it out, it’s him.”

“Guess it’s something to go off of."

“Not bad for our first day, I'd say.”

“Tonight would be a good time, wouldn’t it?" Keith asked. "To see what anyone knows.”

“Good idea.”

“I could try to talk to Marik alone.”

“Bad idea.”

“No, it's not. Andyou can talk to everyone else. You can talk to anyone for hours.”

“I feel like that’s not a compliment,” Lance said. The thought of breaking apart from Keith seemed almost ludicrous right now. The thought of him and Marik alone seemed even stupider.

“You’re good at parties. Aren’t you?”

Lance smirked. “If there’s anything I know how to do, it’s how to have a good time. Unlike present company.” He gave Keith’s body a light squeeze, not hating the way it had Keith arch into him every so slightly. “Loosen up. It’s a party, not a funeral.”

Keith grunted, fingers curling into the fabric of Lance’s tunic. “Easy for you to say. I feel...dumb.”

“You look good.” Lance’s body was starting to feel warm, and he didn’t think he could blame the dancing. He had to look away for a moment. “I’m just saying, enjoy it. I’m sure the next ‘sheer terror’ isn’t far off.”

Keith’s expression was borderline glare. “Well, then I call dibs on doing the next crazy thing.”

Lance chuckled. “But I look pretty badass doing crazy stunts.”

“And then after when you’re dealing with the consequences?”

“Small price to pay for the sake of the universe, don’t you think?”

“Not if you end up dead.”

“Hey, who is the one with the disciplinary issues again?”

“I’m serious, Lance.”

Lance absorbed the impact of Keith’s stare, felt his words twist things out of place in his stomach and chest. Carefully, he drew Keith a little closer. It wasn’t just a few weeks of too much time together that made his fingers splay out against the small of Keith’s back.

“Yeah,” Lance said, staring back at him. “I know.”

Keith nodded, expression softening up again. He didn’t say anything after that. Lance didn’t think there were words that could say anything about the way Keith looked at him. Of how Lance looked back at him as they danced.

Lance would never let himself forget the feel of Keith’s hand on his shoulder, his waist against his palm, or the way they moved together like none of this was pretend.

With Keith’s hand on his shoulder and their hips scant inches, Lance could almost believe that.Then, when Keith leaned into his hands and gripped onto him harder, Lance wanted to believe nothing else.

He almost did, until the music’s tempo changed, and the rhythm of the dancing quieted down to allow newcomers in. Lance felt the weight of the air between him and Keith them dissipate as those around them changed partners or drifted off the floor.

He willed his hand off Keith. At the same time, he felt more than saw Keith’s hand smooth down the length of his arm, linger over his hand, then retreat.

Lance’s breath hitched.

A voice startled him from his stupor. “Your Eminence, may I have the next dance?”

It was the alien with the red veil. Lance could barely make out the hint of pink skin, and yet felt her gaze strangely familiar. Knowing, even. His eyes widened a fraction before he caught himself.

“Of course,” Lance said, passing Keith’s hand off to her. He missed the touch instantly. "Treat him gently."

For a breath, Keith’s eyes bulged at him. Lance could only smile at him and relied on Keith’s trust in him.

The alien gave a polite nod, ushering a stunned Keith back into the masquerade. Lance watched for just a heartbeat longer before forcing himself to turn away. He found Marik easily lurking at the perimeter of the dancefloor.

“Hey, big guy,” Lance said, forcing his smile. “Enjoying the view?”

Marik’s eyes jumped down to him, then returned to watching Keith. “I am merely keeping precautions on behalf of His Eminence.”

“Right, so he’s in good hands.” Lance wanted to bite his tongue at the lie.

Marik looked at him again though, one ear twitching. “Pardon?”

“My back and leg are killing me. I think I just need another patch job and rest,” Lance said. “But, you know, leaving him alone and--”

“Of course. I assure you he is safe with me.”

Lance repressed a sneer. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

“If you require a medic--”

“Nope. I’m good. Got what I need back in our room.” Lance waved him off, slipping around and past him, working his way behind pillars and other means to keep attention off him. It wasn’t hard. A glance back confirmed most had fixated their interest on Keith.

Marik most of all.

With the memory of Keith’s hands on him, Lance made his legs carry him away from the party.

Along the way, he convinced himself that the pang in his chest was not jealousy.

**-X-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record I think it's more Lance getting feelings of luv and doesn't know what to do with it than him actually being a jealous type. I just thought the label of "jealousy" was something interesting to explore in this chapter given his old 'rivalry' days with Keith. 
> 
> Okay but I swear the dialogue always gets away from me. Please let me know if it's too much.
> 
> Thank you for making it to the end of another chapter! I dropped a big hint of a particular character but I'll leave it at that for now. 
> 
> Again, please let me know your thoughts if you have the time!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (cries even more gratefully at all your feet)

 

Keith was left feeling cold.

And, kind of wanting to strangle Lance.

It wasn’t a new sentiment, not by a long shot. Still, after being passed off like some token treasure to an alien, Keith had more than a few words to give Lance. _Especially_ after that...well, ‘moment’ is all Keith could think to call it. Whatever it was, Keith knew it impacted him, made him feel weightless and yet so full. And he’d felt it tonight in the way Lance had held him, like Keith really was the most important thing in the room.

Then, it had stopped, replaced by a chill and a complete stranger.

“This way, Your Eminence,” the alien said. Her hands had already found purchase on him, guiding him along. Keith didn’t like the idea of being lead by anyone. Somehow, it hadn’t been so bad with Lance though.

“Er, I’m not the best dancer,” Keith said, trying to sound apologetic. Maybe he could cut this short.

The alien’s eyes were visible under her veil from this close. She was smirking.

“Oh, I believe it,” she said. “Just as I almost couldn’t believe you survived that crash. You paint a pretty picture now, Your Eminence.”

The alien tugged Keith along, bullying his body into position and taking the lead without his opinion on the matter. It was unlike the way it had felt in Lance’s arms. Keith didn’t like bending to anyone else’s way of doing things, but when it had been Lance turning him, holding him, it hadn’t been so bad.

He had actually dance. With Lance. That wasn't a bad truth at all.

Keith resisted instinct that would have him pull away from the newcomer’s touch. Only, as she affixed them into the next dance, studying him, she didn’t seem so new after he took a good look at her. Was there something familiar in the way she appraised him? Or the way she-

His eyes went wide.

“Allu-Ow…!”

Keith skipped a step in the dance as the pain spiked up his entire arm. Allura (because yes, he knew this pain well) crushed his hand with no sympathy. Her smile remained fixed, but her gaze sharpened beneath the veil.

“Your Eminence,” she said, “remember where you are.”

Keith grunted, riding out the discomfort while Allura tugged him back into proper form. The music swelled into a quicker tempo, and those twirling on the dancefloor spread themselves out further. Keith could feel countless eyes on him.

He focused on the pair in front of him. His mouth opened, and nothing intelligible came out.

“I know it’s a surprise,” Allura said. “I don’t have much time, so bear with it.”

“Are you impersonating someone?” Keith asked.

“That’s not important.” Allura squeezed his hand in warning, shutting Keith’s follow up question. “I’ll be leaving soon enough, but not before I could impart some useful information.”

“How useful?”

Allura tilted her head. It looked modest and shy, until Keith realized she was confirming none of the dancers were invading their personal space. She didn’t answer at first, instead asking, “Who is that big fellow?”

“Huh?”

“He is watching you.”

Keith snuck a glance past her shoulder. “Our guide, Marik. He works for the monarch.”

“Curious. More a bodyguard type than some queen’s assistant. He certainly watches you like one.”

“Lance thinks so. I’m going to talk to him and see if I can get anything out of him.”

“You sound reluctant.”

“I’m not.” Keith shrunk at the look Allura gave him for biting out his words. Right. He had to remember where he was at. Clearing his throat, he said, “I’m not sure I’m good at that kind of thing.”

“Talking?”

“I’m playing a lie.”

Allura clicked her tongue. “Your Eminence,” she said, turning him in a light spin, “the best lies always have some truth to them.”

Keith didn’t know about that. It felt far more complicated than confronting something, even if it meant with some fists along the way. He figured now was not the time to dispute. Not that it was ever a good time to argue with Allura.

She quieted altogether then, waiting until the dance called for couples to draw closer to each other.

Her lips closer to his ear, she said, “An attack is coming.”

Keith inhaled sharply. He blinked hard once, stopping himself from looking surprised. “What?” he whispered back.

Allura hummed, waiting once more for the opportunity to continue. “Mercenaries, from the likes of it.”

Keith frowned at her, then forced his face into something more proper when Allura’s foot ‘accidentally’ kicked his ankle. “Ah...uh...this sounds more like a warning than useful information.”

“Call it what you want. It’s happening. Soon, we think.”

“How soon?”

“Within, ah, how did your kind put it again. The day cycle?”

“Twenty-four hours?”

“That. At the capital’s temple of all places. Still, doing a round here doesn't hurt.” She must have guessed Keith’s next question because she said, “As much as I’m glad to see you alive in person, I’ve also been following someone.”

“You mean to jump them and get answers from about this attack?”

“Well, there’s little jumping involved.”

Keith frowned. “Lance and I were at the temple earlier today.” He rode out a chill at the memory of its aura. It still haunted him, like a never ending echo. “Marik said it's pretty empty until the last day of their festival.”

“Perhaps it’s not so empty for it to be targeted. Or to send a message.” Allura leaned back, pulling Keith along with her. She spoke more openly now that the song had reached a pinnacle height of noise, and what it didn’t mask of their conversation, the susurrus of rich fabrics on the dancers and their steps did.

Keith knew he could hardly keep up were it not for Allura’s strength keeping his body in motion. On instinct, he scanned the crowd, hunting for Lance. Hunting for suspicious critters.

“Now, now, Your Eminence,” Allura said, tapping his cheek so his head was back where it should be. “It’s rude to let your attention stray.”

“Does Lance--”

“You’ll have to pass on the message,” Allura said. “Only to him. A panic would not be a good idea.”

“Shouldn’t we tell someone?”

Allura raised a brow, and Keith resisted the need to protest further. Maybe if he weren’t dolled up and playing royalty, he’d feel less aggravated about the idea of a threat out there he couldn’t do something to stop.

“I’ll handle that,” Allura said. Her tone was less sharp, and Keith figured it was for his own benefit. He could only manage a nod in understanding. Allura worked a smile back at him for his efforts.

“How do you know all this?” Keith asked.

“People talk, particularly those with drinks in them.”

Keith didn’t think the word of drunks held any more weight than the bottles they cradled. He also felt he wasn’t going to get more out of Allura on that. He set aside the questions he still had, tempted to tell her now of Lance’s exploits. But the dance was slowing, and the music dropping in intensity.

“I am glad you are both okay,” she whispered as she nudged Keith to move slower. “I know we have a priority, but I feel there may be more trouble with the creatures of this galaxy than anticipated.”

Keith didn’t doubt her. On multiple occasions Allura’s compassion surprised him, downright frustrated him at times. Yet despite the destruction of her people and whatever other sorrows Allura carried, Keith couldn’t deny she had the kind nature of a great leader.

Keith had to wonder about Laranta’s monarch, by comparison.

“Maybe what we’re looking for is related,” Keith said. “Either way, Zarkon would come for them if they could, and preventing that is part of helping them.”

It wasn’t much, but Allura gave him a half-smile.

“You are most kind, Your Eminence,” she said, stepping back as the dance finally hit its end. She bowed. Keith didn’t know what to do with that.

“I’m not,” he said.

“I leave you to your, ah, big friend there,” Allura said, already ducking her head sideways just as Marik began his approach. She curtseyed, which was really weird for Keith to be on the receiving end of from her. Then, she was gone.

Keith didn’t want her to go. He felt the space between them thick with more things that needed to be talked about. He let her slip away, reminding himself that Pidge would get things working so they could get in touch.

With Allura out of sight, Keith felt his defenses stacking up. Aliens were peering at him, and he could feel them one impulse away from crowding around him. So, when Marik’s shadow stretched over his own, he felt the closest thing to relief since he saw Lance crawl back through the window earlier (and, okay, there had been something kind of impressive-if-startling when Lance had leapt off the balcony to begin with).

Keith really tried not to think about that as he faced Marik. One of his large hands raised, and for a petrifying moment Keith thought Marik was going to ask him for the next dance.

Instead, Marik gestured and said, “You look weary. Would you like fresh air and a drink?”

Keith blew out some of that weariness. “Yes. Thank you.”

He trailed beside Marik, really glad that he was not swamped with unfamiliar faces, questions, and fragrances of perfumes. He tried to offer polite looks (um, smiling, he guessed?) at those that were daring enough to call out to him. Marik escorted him out to a veranda, and fresh air was a welcomed replacement for the frivolity back inside.

Outside, it was empty of part-attendees and extended far enough that it muffled the revelry. Keith leaned against the smooth railing that overlooked flowerbeds and a sturdy hedge, weighed down by, well, everything.

"I'll return in a moment, Your Eminence."

Keith nodded and relished in some alone time. It allowed him to collect thoughts and gaze out at the stillness he rather be part of than frolicking around with primped and preened aliens. From here, he could see the chunks of edifices and land floating against the skyline of Laranta, all cast under the glow of the moon.

Below him, the gardens rustled with occasional admirers, or maybe lovers hoping to steal a moment. Keith wanted to picture himself as one of them, and a particular Blue Paladin as the other. But standing alone, he felt the energy calling for his attention. Like a whisper, it uncoiled in the back of his mind, nudged Red’s presence aside. He had felt it when Lance had left him alone earlier. Submerging himself in the tank had helped drown everything out.

Without Lance chattering away at his side, or the high, gaudy laughter of the aristocrats surrounding him, Keith could almost pinpoint words in his mind. Back at the temple, the sensation had intensified, but he couldn’t be sure the energy of the temple was just that. Old, ancient energy of a mystical planet with a miasma effect. It had clouded his mind and made him forget himself. 

Keith shut his eyes, feeling, listening. 

“Your Eminence?”

Keith jolted. He spun around to find Marik standing at his side with a drink.

“ _Jesus_.”

Marik frowned slightly. “Pardon?”

“I...sorry. You just,” Keith looked away, touching his temple. The energy was turning into a weak ache now. “Just startled me.”

“Apologies…”

Keith sighed, looking over at him again. A drink was offered, and Keith didn’t hesitated to take it, downing it even if Lance would think that was reckless. “You don’t have to keep apologizing like that.”

Marik’s face softened. “I will remember that,” he said, coming closer to lean against the railing as Keith did. “Are you alright, Your Eminence? You looked far lost in your thoughts.”

“Yeah.” Keith twirled the empty glass in his fingers, missing his gloves. He resisted the urge to pat the spot he’d hidden Lance’s gift on his person. “Guess I was.”

“Did you want to discuss anything? It might alleviate you. If, ah, you wish, that is.”

Keith peeked over. Marik looked far bigger standing this close to him, and held a greater strength around his aura. He also knew things. It was his job, hadn’t he said?

Considering his options, Keith decided to think carefully before barrelling into a barrage of questioning (his preferred method). The glass offered a point of focus. He fiddled with it.

“I’d like that,” he said. “But I think you might think what I have to say...strange.”

“Try me, Your Eminence.”

Keith stopped staring at the glass and met Marik’s eyes. “The energy you’ve talked about coming from this planet. Is it impossible that someone could feel it?”

He carefully studied Marik’s reaction. He caught the way those eyes widened, if only a fraction.

“You can feel it?”

“So it’s possible.”

Marik actually glanced away for a moment, and Keith thought he was going to clam up then and there. He held onto the railing, biting his cheek in lieu of demanding Marik to answer.

It paid off. Marik smiled a little. “You really are a unique creature, Your Eminence.”

“I’m really not…”

“Then, if you do not mind me asking,” Marik faced him again, “what is the feeling like?”

Keith hesitated.The music picked up tempo again inside, so close and yet feeling a mile away. Trusting his gut, he divulged a little truth. All the while, he searched for clues on Marik’s expression that would tip him off.

He didn’t really find anything.

“I see,” Marik said when he gave up trying to elaborate on the feeling. “No, it’s not impossible it seems. It’s not particular to your species to be sensitive to this either, no?” When Keith stared blankly, Marik gestured, “Your escort. He doesn’t feel it?”

Keith stole a glance back at the party. He wondered where Lance was at, and if he’d felt a different kind of energy. One that had been building between them, and had felt like a good kind of pressure in Keith’s chest when they’d been dancing so close.

“No,” he answered. He turned his back to the party. “He doesn’t.”

Lance was unlike the energy Keith was talking about. Rather, Lance was an energy all on his own, insistent, maybe even annoying, tickling under Keith’s skin. It was definitely not the time to think about that.

“Perhaps it is a sign that you were meant to come here,” Marik said. He wasn’t looking at Keith anymore, instead at the moon. “Perhaps the energy feels you too.”

“Like it’s alive?”

“I only suggest that whatever power dwells within Laranta, it’s more than anyone can comprehend. So I believe.”

It wasn’t exactly groundbreaking news. Keith dared to try a little harder. “What if it’s just, you know, an item?”

“Such as?”

“I don’t know.” Keith considered how much to say. “Before the, ah...Galra came, there were rumors of an old artifact with a lot of power.” He shut up, testing Marik’s response.

Marik was quiet for a little longer than Keith liked. Then, he said, “You sound as if you were hesitant to speak about it.”

Keith shrugged. Somehow, it wasn’t so hard to admit, “I’d be lying if I said it’s not part of the reason we came here. If there really is something that has been protecting this galaxy,” he trailed off, thinking of past missions, of aliens reduced to mercenary work and entire species enslaved. All because of Zarkon. He gripped his glass so tight it creaked.

“Zarkon’s done a lot of damage,” Keith finished, exhaling and relaxing his grip. “Is it wrong if I want to know there is something that can stop him?”

Marik watched him, his gaze heavy but Keith didn’t exactly find it menacing. If Marik was in on something, he hid it well. Keith figured his line of work made him that way.

“No, you’re not wrong, Your Eminence,” Marik said.

“I want to ask you if it’s true,” Keith said, feeling his jaw get tense. “But I also understand it can be…”

“Suspicious.”

Keith’s blood fell cold. He swallowed hard, staring up at Marik. The alien had gotten a little closer, without invading Keith’s person space.

“You are very honest,” Marik said.

No, Keith wanted to say. He wasn’t, not in disguise. And he hated it.

He didn’t know what he should say in response, having probably said more than he should have. So he held steady, not backing away from Marik’s stare. Keith had been stared down by big, scary things plenty of times. Usually not to his benefit.

“If such a thing existed,” Marik said. “What would you do with that knowledge?”

“I’d wonder if it could be taken away.”

“Like by the Galra.”

Keith nodded.

“Given your history with them, I can understand.” Marik gave him an assuring smile. “You don’t have to concern yourself over such things, Your Eminence. That’s why the likes of myself do what they do.”

Marik certainly was the more equipped in conversations. Keith deflated a little at his response, resting his palm on his chin. It might not look the most royal posture, but he could always blame it on losing himself in moon gazing. He kind of missed Rodi and even those kids about now.

“Well,” Keith said, deciding not to waste the opportunity and concede to defeat (he never did, even when broken on the ground), “fine. I won’t. Tell me about you then.”

“You want to know about me?”

“How does a big guy like you end up an assistant to a monarch,” Keith said. Blunt, a little more to his liking. He would keep vulgar in check though, at the least.

Marik chuckled at that. “If you really wish to know…”

Keith kind of did, in reality, if only as a side effect of his suspicions. So he listened to what Marik had to share of himself, the tale of being raised by an older sister (not by blood) from one of the farthest planets. She left to join Laranta’s militia when he was older, supplying him funds through a career she took pride in.

The story relaxed Keith, Marik’s voice built for telling them. He spoke fondly of his sister and his ears drooped when he admitted he lost contact with her. Inspired by her devotion to protecting the galaxy, Marik had joined as well. Then, upon learning her death, he’d come upon a new opportunity.

“Our monarch thought I could be more of use as her aid. She found me keen and having someone looking like me did not hurt to have in her entourage, doing her bidding.” Marik wasn’t look at Keith, gazing past the railing. “I think, in part, she did it out of sympathy for my grief. It was difficult to pursue a path my sister had. They never retrieved her body outside the galaxy where her ship had been boarded.”

Keith couldn’t pretend he knew that kind of loss intimately. He knew Marik wasn’t lying either. Something told him so, and he believe it. It was strange even; for a second, Keith thought he knew what the sister looked like. Or the hint of her name.

Keith mentally shook off the weird sensation upon hearing a familiar voice exuding from the festivities. He glanced quickly through the archway and spotted Lance making rounds with all the pretty aliens, a drink in hand.

Looking back at Marik, Keith cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, Your Eminence.”

“I’m kind of surprised you would tell me. You...don’t know me well.”

Marik turned his head toward him. “Ah, true. I would like to get to know you, if you allowed it. I don’t speak on behalf as the monarch when I say it either.”

Keith blinked. “Really?”

“Not many know of my sister. You risked much to visit, and perhaps this is one way I could return such sincerity.”

Keith didn’t know what to say to that. It turned out, he didn’t have to say anything. A guard stepped out from the party and into their veranda. He went directly to Marik, who inclined his head to hear a private message.

“Your Eminence, forgive me,” Marik said when the guard marched away. “Other duties call. I’m afraid the dinner with our monarch will have to be postponed.”

“Right. Of course.” Keith watched Marik bow, and called out to him before he left. “Thanks. For this. It was a nice, uh, distraction.”

Marik returned the smile before turning away. On cue, as if he’d been observing, Lance stood at the edge of the party. He winked at Keith. Three aliens were draped around him, all at various levels of admiration. Keith sighed, bracing himself for when he'd have to return to to it.

For the moment, Keith let him do his thing, furtively spying on him from afar. Though they wouldn’t dine with Laranta’s ruler tonight, it did little to dampen the celebrations, as obvious in the way aliens threw back drinks and clung to Lance’s anecdotes (he overtold the way he’d gotten his recent scars) like they were gospel.

Their behavior toward Lance twisted Keith up inside, made his jaw tighten and forced smiles hurt. What would have normally been indifference at best, and twinges of annoyances at worst, felt like raw bursts of anger he had to push down. The energy rippled underneath each of his feelings.

Keith downed as many drinks as an attendant brought him.

Lance didn’t dance with him again.

 

**-x-**

 

Lance took the news of an oncoming attack pretty well.

Then again, juxtaposed by the most recent near-death experiences, Keith figured it was good fortune they even had a warning. Not much, but at least Lance wasn’t totally freaking out about it.

Keith relayed the details pretty coherently given his current state of tingles. Whatever the fruity drinks contained, it _finally_ gave him a faint buzz to endure the rest of the party, the potent perfumes, the bright colors, Lance’s flirting (specifically the kind not aimed at Keith).

“Soooo, you couldn’t tell me any of this sooner?” Lance asked. "Like, I don't know, right away?"

Keith toed off his slippers and collapsed onto a couch, legs propped up. Finally. His feet were much happier here than being swept across a dance floor by Allura. Lance. Well. That was a whole mess of things that the drink in him wasn’t making easier to organize.

So, Keith shrugged. “What good would it have done?”

“What if they were at the party? Did you think about that?”

“Allura didn't think so, and she said not to cause a panic. Besides, you looked _busy._ ”

“Busy? What, chatting up everyone?”

Keith gave him a look.

“Hey,” Lance held up a defensive hand, “ _that_ was work, I’ll have you know.”

Keith narrowed an eye at him. “We should have checked out that temple more. There could have been something there.”

Lance looked bothered, and actually didn’t say anything. Then, as per typical, he waved off Keith’s words like swatting away a bug. “You can’t go there now, can you? Though,” he fell silent a moment, looking thoughtful (a rare, and no lie, kind of hot sight), “I’m pretty sure that relic isn’t here in this citadel.”

Keith crossed his arms, impatient. "Talk."

Lance did (like he could even stop): prior to rejoining the party, he’d done multiple sweeps of all the floors he could manage, and rubbed elbows with those that were either joining the merriment later or fabricating their own in private dining rooms.

“I mean, the monarch’s room is pretty secure but their are hardly guards there,” Lance went on to say. He was stretching, but didn’t look tired the way Keith felt. In fact, the damn paladin looked invigorated, as if the party had pulsed renewed energy into him. Probably did. Lance picked up energy with people around, much more so when they were cute. “Weird, right? Oh, and get this: this one lady, her uncle’s friend use to work as a guard here.”

“Really.”

“Yup. They dated or whatever, but then he got this great gig here,” Lance paced around the tank as he gesticulated with his hands, “but he’d write to her.”

Keith listened, studying the way Lance talked like it was easy work having been told all this from one encounter with a pretty face. It was a nuisance during most of their missions, but now, Keith realized, Lance’s crummy lines had an effect with the right audience.

It didn’t hurt that Lance wasn’t hard on the eyes either (didn’t he exfoliate or something? Anyway.).

The information didn’t prove much. The guard, according to his letters, was due for a transfer after a year’s worth of good work. And then, once the date came for it, the letters stopped.

“Weird, okay. But I don’t know. That doesn’t seem like enough,” Keith said.

Lance stopped moving, frowning at him. “Come on. Think about it. If you got something special to protect, you put the best defense around it, right? I’ve been on every floor of this place and I haven’t seen a crazy amount of guards”

Keith rubbed his temple, sighing. “Maybe. What if there’s something like...underground we can’t access?”

“I guess I could try to tail some of the guards more…”

“Are you serious?”

“Hey, it’ll certainly be more than your little _chat_ tonight.”

Keith was never too tired to pick up on a little bark from Lance. He glared across the room. “Hey, I’m pretty sure whatever this relic is, it exists. Marik didn’t confirm it, but I got a good feeling from him about it.”

Lance hummed, looking unimpressed. “Yeah, because being blunt about it isn’t going to backfire.”

“I wasn’t that blunt.”

Lance waved him off again, coming closer. “I can’t believe you practically told him you were looking for it!”

“What does it matter if I did?” Keith shrugged both shoulders this time. “He watches me closely already. The best chance I got around here is to get him to open up and show me more.”

“You aren’t really the seducing type.”

“I didn’t say _that_.”

“It’s the same thing.” Lance pursed his lips, one eyebrow arching. “Getting cozy with him, get him to spill beans.”

“You _just_ did the same thing.” Keith kicked his legs off the couch and stood up. The anger was spiking again.“And what is with you and thinking that kind of crap about Marik?”

“What’s with you _not_ thinking that?”

“Not everyone thinks with their dick like you.”

Lance’s face fell. It was almost worth the insult to see his face so raw with offense and, of course, ire. Keith only lifted his chin at him, not retracting the comment.

“I can’t believe you actually said that,” Lance said. “I don’t know who should be more offended, me or my dick.”

“No one wants to hear about your dick.”

“Hmm. I don’t know about that,” Lance said, placing his hands on his hips, looking might fine about himself. “I had plenty of offers tonight that say otherwise.”

Heat streaked across Keith’s face. Its source came from anger more than anything else, but it wasn’t a familiar type. It was as if something new was feeding it, and it made his blood start to boil. It shoved the images of aliens flocking over Lance to the forefront of Keith’s mind, amplified his frustration of just sitting around here when they knew an attack was coming.

His rage must have shown because Lance blinked rapidly and said, “Whoa. Chill, man. It’s not like I was going to _do_ any of that.”

The way Lance looked at him startled Keith out of the unexpected rage. It emptied out of him on an exhale, leaving his stomach feeling sick. His skin felt cold.

“Keith?”

Keith jerked up to see Lance standing beside him.

“What the hell, man?” Lance frowned. “You looked like you were about to barf. Did you drink too much?”

Keith touched his forehead, unsure he had an answer. “I...just got kind of dizzy is all.”

Lance didn’t look like he bought that. “Yeah...Maybe you should call it a night.”

Calling it a night didn't sound ideal. 

"I'm alright," Keith said. Standing close enough to feel Lance’s warmth, Keith could believe that. He breathed a little easier, letting go of the anger that had suddenly piled up in his chest. His hand twitched, wanting to close the short distance and touch Lance’s hand, to go back to the feelings when he’d been in Lance’s arms.

"Keith," Lance said, "if something's...going on, you can tell me." He went a little pink. "I mean, we're paladins. Bonded and crap, like Pidge said. Right?"

Keith hadn’t lied when Lance asked if he trusted him. Slowly, he nodded, not really wanting to say anything about not being fine. Not now, when the stakes seemed to accumulate the more they learned about Laranta.

“Sure,” Keith said, the weariness tempting him to melt against Lance like ice. If only it were easy to forget about the ache in his head, about their bickering, about the way Lance had smiled at those other aliens. "Right..."

But Keith, for all his honesty, couldn't just blurt out what was going on. What could he say, when he didn't know it himself? Shrugging off the concern was a natural reaction to him, even if it took a few attempts when the sentiment came from Lance. It took effort to turn away from Lance, arms crossed.

"Nothing's wrong," Keith said. 

Behind him, Lance sighed heavily. "Fine," Lance said after a while. "Whatever. Just...Come on, man. Try and get some sleep? We can figure things out later after Pidge gets in touch again."

Keith pulled a face, but really did feel the fatigue pulling at him. Sleep. Maybe it's all he needed to realign himself, figure things out. Reboot his system, as Hunk often analogized it as. 

Though it had taken effort to turn away from Lance, it took less effort than Keith wanted to admit to sink into the bed. He pulled out the dagger Lance gave him, and tucked it under the pillow for assurance.

“Do you, uh,” Lance called out, “need anything? Like, water or…?”

“No.” Keith's eyelids felt so tired, more tired than his body felt. “...Thanks."

Before he had the thought to ask if Lance would rest tool, or even think to change out of his robes, Keith slipped away from reality.

He fell deep into dreams.

**-x- ...-x-**

Keith was floating.

The space he occupied, desolate and dark, sighed around him as if having waited for him. It was the whispers welcoming him, manifesting as wisps of white light that fluttered around him like butterflies.

Their sounds drifted from their corners, lulling his feet forward.

Keith touched one of the white lights. It swelled under his touch. The sounds grew louder, pictures trying to carve themselves visible for Keith, to tell him it understood his turmoil, that he was not alone. It knew them too--the anger, the frustration, the bitterness, the urges. The images swept by too fast like a sudden wind.

Keith glided forward.

Someone called his name, from behind. Keith stopped.

Lance?

He remembered himself, and knew he didn't want to let the images in front of him take him. He should go back, to whoever was calling his name.

Keith took a step back.

The pictures before him exploded, white, hot light and its sounds contorted: angry, demanding.

They slammed into him, invisible fingers forcing him still, clawing their way into his mouth. Hunting for his soul. It didn’t speak words, but he understood.

_Let me in._

 

**-x-...-x-**

 

Keith woke with a scream caught in his throat.

His breath was lost, as if ripped straight out of him. His body trembled, feeling too weak for the clamoring of his heart. It was beating. Proof he was alive. And then, he registered a voice over the panic.

“Keith,” it was saying. There were other words that came into his consciousness soon after: “...it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s me, it’s me…”

Lance.

Keith wanted to say he was fine. He still couldn’t breathe.

There was a pressure against his chest. Lance’s hand, splayed right over where his heart was pounding away.

“Jesus,” Lance said, “I think you’re hyperventilating. Keith. Keith? You have to breathe, okay? Just like me. Like this.”

Lance inhaled deep. Keith felt the other’s chest expand against his back, and then relax. Keith clenched his fists and copied the breaths. The first few sputtered out as if he’d been underwater too long. Then, as he pinned his mind to the point of contact on his chest, he took even, deeper breaths.

“Okay,” Lance said. “Okay, good. Like that.”

On a shaky exhale, Keith found himself able to swallow and find his voice.

“S...I’m--”

“If you say you’re fine, I’m going to cut your hair off.” Nothing in Lance’s voice sounded like any of that was truth. He almost sounded relieved.

His hand stayed on Keith’s chest, riding out each inhale. Keith tried to look around as he felt reality clear away the panic for the nightmare it had been. He was on the bed. Lance was behind him. The decor was that of their room in Laranta.

Just a nightmare.

Not real.

It felt like ages for him to find a rhythm for breathing, follow Lance’s voice out of the panic in his mind, and moor himself to the feel of Lance’s hand on his chest.

On a deep inhale, Keith shuddered. “Shit…”

“Yeah,” Lance said. “You okay?”

Keith rose a quivering hand to his forehead. Already he was losing bits of the dream. “I had a dream.”

“I thought you were choking or about to have a seizure,” Lance said.

Keith shivered, hand coming to his mouth like he might throw up everything inside his body. When he could talk, he said, “Was just a dream. Bad dream.”

“Oh.” Lance stayed silent a moment, but the sound of his breath sounded deafening. “Do you, erm, want to...talk about it?”

Keith wanted to laugh. Couldn’t. “It’s nothing.”

“Okay.”

“But...thanks.”

“Do you get nightmares usually?”

Keith lowered his hand, frowning. “I guess.” They were typical though, things that haunted him though they had little bearing on his daily life years later. This though…

“Not like this,” Keith admitted.

“Oh.”

Keith groaned, weary and not wanting to move. He realized Lance had been talking to him, but without having changed his position. Keith fell quiet, feeling his heart calm down under the weight of Lance's palm. At some point, Keith must have clung to his hand because he only noticed how he was clutching it.

It had been Lance’s touch to raise his heart rate on the dancefloor. Now, it calmed the fear Keith wouldn’t openly admit to having felt. He could admit Lance’s hand was warm. Safe.

Keith brushed his thumb over the back of it.

Lance’s fingers twitched.

After several heartbeats and breaths, Keith felt a digit brush return the touch. Subtle, like it could have been an accident. Keith didn’t want it to be an accident.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” Keith said. It was something still on his mind, on his body if he though about it hard enough. He rather think of that than the nightmare. He rather memorize the feel of Lance pressed against his back.

He wasn’t oblivious (ignoring comments that would offer evidence to the contrary); his attraction to Lance was not so much new as it was expanding and making him aware of the distance between them, of the sensations he got when Lance grinned at him or touched him.

Lance was very much still capable of pressing his buttons. Of annoying him. Just, the good things made up for it way more than they use to. Or something.

Lance let out a little laugh. Keith wanted to bottle up the sound for himself. “Are you drunk?”

“No. The drinks barely had anything in them.”

“So...Random expression of praise. Okay, I accept it,” Lance said. Keith could hear his smile. “Of course I can dance.”

“I wasn’t praising you.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Whatever helps you sleep, Princess.”

Yeah. Definitely could still be annoying.

Lance’s fingertip bumped against one of his.

A little annoying, anyway, Keith amended.

“You feeling better?” Lance asked. It was no better than a whisper.

Keith whispered his answer back, as if speaking any louder would disrupt whatever it was that kept Lance against him.

“Yeah.”

“How’s the...you know, energy feels?”

Keith snorted softly. Still, he considered the question seriously. “Always there,” he said. “Even if I’m not thinking about it.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“That kind of sounds like what it’s like with Blue.”

Keith hadn’t connected the two being similar. Considering it, he decided it didn’t stray far from what he felt. Red often kept a stoic, even temperamental at times, existence within Keith. It spread from his mind into his heart, and right now she felt farther than he wanted her to be.

“I guess,” he answered at last. 

"Have you always been able to do that?" Lance asked.

"Do what?"

"Feel energy. Or...whatever it is."

Keith never thought about it. "I feel things," he said. Didn't everyone, to some degree? Like the hair rising on the back of your neck or the tingle that something was not right. Keith figured, if he had to mull it over, it was just part of who he was, as someone who lived life by the tides of his impulses and senses.

"That sounds vague," Lance said, disappointed. "For a second I thought you had like weird superpowers."

"It's not like that," Keith said. He fumbled with the right description. He and words didn't have an easy relationship, and more often then not they had caused him more problems than they were worth. He sighed. What could he say to make Lance get it? Keith thought about what he felt right now.

"I feel you," Keith said.

"Wh-What?"

"Your energy. Maybe because we're paladins, but I feel yours."

Lance was too quiet for too long. But then, he swallowed audibly and whispered, "What's it like?"

"Cool," he said.

"Expected."

"No, not like that. It's...refreshing," Keith's fingers grazed over Lance's as he spoke, the words not so problematic now. "It can be erratic, but it's always...not at the same time. Safe. Devoted. Something like that."

"O-Oh." Lance's hand trembled under his touch. "Damn. That's...uh..."

"Are you going to make fun of me?"

Lance's chuckle was strained. "Yeah, definitely. At a later date," he cleared his throat, "when...when, uh...Keith...?"

Keith had slowly shifted his fingers, one then two, gradual increments that finally, at long last, twined their fingers the way their legs had been when Keith woke up on the moon. The touch was light, centimeters from being fleeting. The base of their palms rested on Keith’s chest, their fingers hovering above, moving against another, as if in awe at why they hadn’t done this before.

Lance’s fingers, where they grazed against his own, felt soft. By comparison, Keith figured his must have felt rough and worn from years of dirtying his hands, of scraping by. No one invested these kinds of touches on them before, making them feel strong, important.

Carefully, Keith coaxed Lance’s knuckles closer, so that one ghosted against his lower lip.

Lance’s breath caught.

“Keith.”

Without releasing Lance’s hand, Keith rolled his head over. He wasn’t surprised by the flush of color on Lance’s darker skin, but was entranced by how Lance looked at him. Looked at his mouth and stared there. Lance swallowed, gaze dragging up to hold Keith’s again.

Keith could believe there was no greater distance in the universe than his lips from Lance. Just as he could believe that he wasn’t the only one feeling it.

He murmured Lance’s name, and did as his heart and body wanted. He tipped his head back, stroked the palm of Lance’s palm, felt more than saw the distance closing, and--

Cold.

Keith rapidly blinked, finding his hands bare and the cold an unwanted replacement. The entire warmth from Lance peeled away, painfully like when you pull off a bandage too slow. Keith felt the bed shift as Lance practically jumped off.

“U-Um,” Lance coughed, and was looking _very_ busy with fixing his hair, “G-Glad you’re better. I'll grab water. Oh. I mean. There’s the water. Yeah. Water there for you on the table. Um, oh! Yeah, so, you know, Marik came by and asked if we were okay? He…”

Keith exhaled, pinching his eyes tightly. Lance rambling wasn’t a rare occurrence (Pidge sometimes called it a curse when it did happen), but when it was coming out fast as it was now, it didn’t do much to hide how flustered the Blue Paladin was.

Keith wanted to chuck the pillow at him because Lance was skirting over the...thing-ness happening between them (when he wasn’t, that was. Complicated, much?) Keith knew his feelings well enough, yet somehow he was labeled the ‘troubled’ one instead of the nonsense that was Lance, who wouldn’t even look him in the eyes right now.

Keith tugged out his dagger and hid it on his person again, trying to pretend it hadn't been a touching gift from a certain Blue Paladin.

“Lance.”

Lance whipped his head at him for a moment. “What?”

“Shut. _Up_.” Keith’s mind had endured plenty in a short amount of time. Lance’s fickleness wasn’t helping.

“What! Don’t tell me to--”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you exactly what you can do.” Keith knew he sounded a little more petulant than typical. Whatever. Lance had ruined two moments (vague term but Keith lacked the poetry to call it something else) between them already. “Especially when _you’re_ the one being such a fu--”

“The one what? You were the one throwing a fit earlier!”

“Me? _You_ \--”

**“Uh...guys?”**

Both of them shut up at the same time. Keith grit his teeth and tore his eyes off Lance. “Pidge,” he said, finding some relief in the distraction. Tried to, at least.

**“I turned on your frequencies and hear you going at it. Something I should know?”**

Keith caught Lance’s eye for a second, and it looked strained. No, they hadn’t been fighting. This was worse. “No. It’s...nothing,” he said, rubbing at the ache building in his temple. “What’s going on?”

**“Oh, you know, cracking suspicious coding while avoiding mercenaries. The usual.”**

“What?” Lance touched his ear with one hand. “You were attacked?” 

**“Not me, specifically. A ship, a military one I think. They had to land on the asteroid. They captured the mercenaries eventually though.”**

“A military ship.” Lance tapped his lips in thought. Keith stared at the action, thinking how close Lance’s mouth would have been to his had he just turned over in bed sooner. Asshole. Keith hated he kept looking at him, but at the same time hoped it irritated Lance.

“Did you catch anything they were saying?” Keith asked.

**“They had picked up new recruits from various planets. That’s about all I got. Not like they would just conveniently spill secrets.”**

“Worth a try,” Lance said, lowering his hand. He caught Keith’s stare, blushed, and looked away. “Anyway, um, uh, oh. Right. Did Shiro or Allura talk to you yet?”

**“Yeah. I got a reading on all your locations consistently now too. But now I gotta try and access the data at the checkpoints.”**

“Why?” asked Keith.

**“Just to see get a record of what’s been going through. Seeing how thorough these checkpoints are.”**

“Think the mercenaries might bribe there way in?” Lance suggested.

**“More like someone working the checkpoints is in on it.”**

Keith frowned, sitting up fully now. “Allura did say she was sensing some tension.”

 **“Hence, next phase.** **I have a job for you, Lance. Think you can handle straying from Keith’s side long enough to get it done? It won’t be an easy one.”**

Lance peeked at Keith, turned away slightly. “It’s not fun if it’s easy.” He almost sounded like his normal self. “What’s up?”

Keith crossed his arms, gauging the risk of the task at hand as Pidge detailed the request. It required a device being hooked into any of the citadel’s computer systems. Keith didn’t get much of the tech part of it, but he did understand that Lance would need to be doing more sneaking around to get it done.

“What if their system, you know, registers someone trying to mess with it?”

**“Let me worry about that. I have a good hunch about this, guys. I just need a final confirmation.”**

Keith rarely doubted Pidge’s expertise. He swayed between protesting and wanting to get this whole mission done with swift as possible. Lance, however, seemed very curious about Pidge’s hunch and its implications.

“A hunch, huh?”

**“I don’t want to say more just yet. Not yet.”**

Pidge wouldn’t elaborate further. Lance lifted both shoulders. “Fine. How do I pick up this chip thing you have?”

**“Shiro has. We’ll figure out a meeting point soon. I’m just waiting for Shiro to get back to me on a good spot.”**

“Sounds fun.”

**“Keith?”**

“Yeah?”

**“About that energy you talk about. Have you felt it again?”**

Keith shut his eyes, reaching for it now. “It’s still here. I think...I can feel it more when I’m more alone. When it’s quieter.”

**“Interesting. You said the temple by the citadel had that feeling too?**

“Yeah. I think. It’s hard to explain when everything feels...touched by it, if that makes sense.”

**“Well, ‘A’ for effort in trying to explain it. What--”**

A sudden, crack of thunder broke their conversation. Only, Keith realized, it wasn’t thunder. Both he and Lance shared a look and bolted toward the windows.

They shoved aside curtains and rushed to the railing of their balcony. The night, otherwise young, was swollen to the east with the plumes of a fire. The silence shattered at another explosion, and panicked cries reached Keith’s ears.

**“What the heck was that? Was that the attack?”**

“Looks like it,” Keith breathed. The angle made it difficult to confirm if the temple itself was under siege. The smoke ballooned too wide and dark to tell.

On instinct, Keith turned to bolt.

Lance snatched his arm.

“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“We have to help.

Lance’s reluctance twisted his face into a sneer. “I know, I know, okay? I don’t like But we have to be smart about it.”

**“Keith, Shiro said he was on it. I’ll try and make contact now, okay? But I’ll have to disconnect from you guys.”**

Keith didn’t really care about the damn connections or why Pidge was reluctant to open them completely. He wanted to hear Shiro’s voice now, wanted to know he was safe, that the aliens of Laranta weren’t in danger.

More than anything, he wanted to barrel down there himself. He was sick of waiting. They’d waited too long already just standing here.

“Fine,” Keith said, hard.

**“Lance?”**

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. I won’t let him run off.”

“You _aren’t_ my caretaker,” Keith said.

Lance narrowed his eyes at him, not at all shrinking under Keith’s hard looks. “Actually, I am so shut the hell up while we wait for Pidge’s word. Got it?”

No, Keith didn’t get it. “Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, good. So--Keith? _Keith!_ ”

Keith was already shimmying his way down the balcony. If he planned it out right, he could work his way down to a platform that marked the edge of the garden, and then make his way over the hedges and trees.

Above him, Lance was hissing after him. And then, not much longer, he heard before he saw Lance climbing down after him.

“You’re ridiculous,” Lance said, easily catching up and passing him. “I hope you realize that. And crazy.”

"Who's crazy? The crazy one or the crazy one going after the crazy one?"

"I'm tempted to push you off right now."

Keith ignored him, panting as he scanned their options of evading detection. “You know a faster way down or not?”

“Crazy. Batshit crazy."

Keith stopped asking him questions, and muddled his way around grooves and platforms Lance found. It was slower progress for him. He really should have shucked his shoes and relied on the fabric on his toes.

Of course Lance landed on the ground first on quiet boots. Keith peered over his shoulder down at him. Keith was still a good--

“Wh-Whoa…!”

In retrospect, leaning back as much as Keith did hadn’t been thought out well; his fingers lost their already weakening grip, his foot slipped and he plummeted. Straight into Lance’s arms, of all things.

Lance grunted at the impact, but held steady as he balanced Keith in his arms. He smiled broadly, this stupid grin that made it hard for Keith to stay irritated with him.

Until he said, like it was a knee-jerk reaction he couldn’t stop: “Did it hurt falling for me?”

Keith flushed and shoved Lance's face hard. He squirmed out of Lance's arms and got his bearings again. Maybe throw a few words at Lance for the hell of it.

“Uh, Ke-I mean...Princess?”

“Not _now_ , Lance.” The whir of a laser gun powering up eclipsed what 'few words' Keith had ready to fire at Lance. He whirled around as the weapons lifted, aimed right at them. Four aliens Keith didn’t recognize them stared at them with wide eyes, as if finding treasure.

“Well, if this isn’t a sign of fortune, I don’t know what is,” one with wings like a bat said. He sounded far too pleased. “You just cut our work’s time by half, falling into our laps.”

“Who are you?” Lance asked.

Keith clenched his fists, light on his toes.

“Only matters who you are,” Batty said, looking at Keith. “Hands up, if you please. It’ll make all of this easier for all of us.”

Keith narrowed his eyes, scanned the thugs that had builds perfect for hired muscle. He felt the tickle of energy in a corner of his mind, enticing him to calculate the odds of taking them all on by himself.

Lance chuckled through his nose. “That explosion is a distraction for this? Seems too smart for the likes of you guys.”

That earned Lance a blow to his face from the butt of a laser gun. The surge of anger had Keith lunge forward, but he stopped cold when the weapons all cocked on a doubled-over Lance. As if just waiting for an excuse to shoot him down.

Batty was looking right at Keith. “I said it politely once. Hands up.”

Keith surveyed the alien in front of him, quickly zeroing in on vital points. The whispers morphed into snapshots: break the jaw, snap wrists, seize a neck and--

Another gun hummed, rattling Keith from his daze. He trembled at the rush of violence that had almost been on the edge of his fingertips. Its loss left him abandoned, until he sought out Red’s presence within him. She was there, yet still too far.

_What's happening to me?_

He looked at Lance, then the weapons. Slowly, Keith raised his hands above his head.

He never felt so cold inside.

**-X-**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the feedback from the last chapter! I still plan to reply to all the comments!
> 
> This chapter was really difficult for me due to laying the groundwork for what's to come with Keith. I rewrote a few scenes multiple times to try and keep the writing and transitions smooth, but also a little different from the last chapters. 
> 
> Please let me know if anything stuck out awfully. I don't want to overwhelm readers with 'info dump' or take away from the Klance build-up through the general plot. Also I am very happy most of you are happy with dialogue because damn it makes my chapters long. Thank you!
> 
> If you have time again for a comment, please do! I have re-read them so many times and they've both motivated me and helped me try to keep things polished.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it finally happens. thank you to each of you I cry at your feet still.

 

 

Lance felt a bruise coming.

Of all places to get whacked, it had to be his face. He didn’t know if that offense was worse, or the pain that exploded from it. It sparked all across his face. They never emphasize that in the movies, or how his brain felt like it had gotten a good tussle.

But, seriously, why the face?

He mourned the reality of temporary disfigurement long enough to gather his bearings. He lifted his head enough to see Keith raising his hands, looking like he wasn’t going to keep them there for long. The fury in Keith’s eyes was palpable.

Not good.

About to get kidnapped? Really not good.

“Good,” the bat-like alien was saying, approaching Keith as if he expected no trouble. “Orders are to bring you alive, but nothing more. So, be a docile little thing, yes?”

Keith tensed, hands starting to lower.

“Keep those up, Highness,” the alien said, rougher around the edges. “You should be thanking us. We’re actually saving you.”

“Saving us?” Lance stayed crouched, touching his face. “Doesn’t look at it from where we’re at.”

“Allow us to educate you then. But first,” Batty trailed off, and withdrew metallic links. Lance had his fair share of an experience with them once to know they were cuffs.

Keith caught his eye. Lance made a small gesture with his head, hoping it was enough.

It was: Keith shifted, catching their to-be-kidnappers’ attention for a split moment. Lance seized it, leaping off his heels and ramming the top of his head under the chin of the closest goon. Lance ducked away, snatching the cloak of another alien’s and yanking atop over his head. At the same time, he heard Keith scuffling with Batty.

“I’ll take that,” Lance said, pinching a laser gun off one of the aliens that went down. He jerked it up, aiming at the last alien, feeling invigorated by the weight of the weapon in his hands.

The alien gawked, then raised his weapon. Lance was faster. “Uh-uh. Don’t even think about it. I got killer aim. Uh, no pun intended. So I’d slowly put that-”

Keith’s fist flew into view, crashing into the back of the alien’s head. It went down with a cry, and Keith lunged after him.

“Whoa! Hey!” Lance rushed forward, but the alien was prone under Keith’s hands the next instant. And yet still Keith raised his arm once more. Lance snatched it and yanked it back, hard. “Jesus, Keith!”

Keith whirled on him, and his eyes startled Lance. Then, as if only just registering Lance was standing in front of him and not a threat, Keith relaxed, breathless. He stared at his wrist caught in Lance’s grip, and the knocked out aliens strewn about the garden.

“Overkill, much?” Lance asked.

Under Lance’s glare, Keith tensed. “They were going to kidnap us! Maybe even kill us. Was I supposed to let them?”

“You were supposed to let _me_ do the work,” Lance said. He had gotten struck for good reason, after all. It had given him the right angle and chance he needed. “We should have kept one conscious.”

Keith tugged his arm free. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It _did_. We could have gotten answers!”

Keith’s eyes widened. He scanned the scene, shoulders sinking. “...Sorry.”

Lance wanted to stay pissed at Keith, but he had seen the way Keith went at their wannabe kidnappers with more reckless abandon than was typical of him. That, and all that anger would just etch his face with wrinkles.

He sighed heavily. “What the hell, Keith?”

Keith prickled, seeming to remember he was mad at Lance. Maybe for good reason. Lance really tried not to think about what had happened earlier on the bed. It tried to nag at him. It was easier to focus on the pain of his face instead.

Lance lowered the gun, looking toward the smoke pluming at a distance. “Forget it. They’re out cold, but someone might have heard something. We should hurry.”

Keith swallowed, nodding. He followed Lance’s lead, securing the limbs of the aliens with whatever they could manage, leaving them for guards to find. Lance took the extra measure of unraveling the cloak from one of them and tossed it to Keith.

“What’s this?” Keith asked.

“You think you won’t stand out looking like that?” Lance shook his head, tugging the cowl free from his tunic. They didn’t have time to bicker, so he was glad Keith actually listened and swept the cloak around him.

With the tension thick between them, they worked their way up into the trees and over the hedges. Lance lead the way, periodically glancing back to ensure Keith’s robes weren’t getting snagged on anything, and just to generally be sure Keith was mostly there. You know, physically anyway. Mentally was another story. A weird, complicated story that might not have a good ending.

 _One crisis at a time_. Lance felt Blue’s concern nudging in the back of his mind.

The back alleys were bare, and the shadows thick for them to scurry into. Lance had committed to memory the mapping of the general area outside the citadel, the paths Marik had taken them either by foot or in the hover craft. The rest he could improvise with the assurance of the late night keeping civilians out of their path.

Following the sounds of chaos, they weaved through the markets. Lance could smell the smoke now and make out distinct words their universal translator picked up. From their new vantage, he could see the general mass of the temple’s island and the steps leading up to it. The fire blazed, but far off in the distance, and Lance heard scrambling.

“It doesn’t look like the temple was hit,” Lance said, keeping his voice low. Whether or not Shiro played a direct part in that, he had to trust the Black Paladin was keeping low now.

Footsteps pounded along the cobblestones, punctuated by an occasional curse. Lance pressed his hand to Keith’s chest, flattening them back against the wall and shadows as the source of the running came to a halt nearby.

“I lost contact with the infiltration group,” an alien was saying.

Another, marked by a nasally voice, spat out a curse. “I told you this was more trouble than it was worth.”

“It’s worth it,” the first said. “The bounty on that noble water-brat is worth it.”

“No, I’m done messing around with the Galra.”

Keith jerked forward. Lance snatched his arm and shoved him back into hiding, pinning him with a hard look he hoped traveled through the darkness: _are you kidding me right now?_

“I say we stick to the original job we were hired for,” the alien went on to say.

“Idiot, the original job is _over_. Did the smoke and loss of contact with the others not give that away? Someone obviously tipped off the old hag...”

“Hey! You two! Stay where you are!”

Lance frowned deep, pinpointing the authoritative voice belonging to a guard. The two bickering mercenaries (had to be, right?) bolted, their steps petering out and followed by the bellows of one, then two other guards taking chase.

Lance blew out a long breath.

“Well, shit,” he said.

Keith’s voice was more hiss than talk. “There’s a Galra bounty?”

“News sure spreads fast,” Lance asked.

The faint crackle in their earpiece had them both startle.

 **“What the** **_hell_ ** **are you guys doing? Your locations aren’t in the citadel.”**

“Um…”

**“Keith, what did you do?”**

Keith grit his teeth. “Why is it my fault?”

**“You  have the impulse control of a toddler.”**

Lance was always up for a good tease, particularly at Keith’s expense. There was a cloud of smoke not far off and mercenaries around though. “What happened, Pidge? Is Shiro okay?”

 **“Ugh. I can’t with you two right now. Seriously.”** A big sigh. **“Shiro left the location before the explosion. Guess Allura’s tip came right in time to interrupt the attack. Some warehouses got caught in the crossfire, by the ports. No casualties from what Shiro has seen.”**

Lance figured that counted for a lot, at least. “Did Shiro find anything in the temple?”

**“No, but he wasn’t there long. He was making sure it was empty.”**

“Well, the attack was a diversion we think,” Lance said. “There were some mercs looking for us and we heard another talking about a bounty.”

**“What?”**

After Lance quickly detailed the recent events, Keith added, “They were amateurs. I don’t think they knew what they were really doing, just chasing money.”

**“After fighting the Galra, anyone else looks like an amateur.”**

“I think we need to move things along,” Lance said, scanning the area. Though they hadn’t heard anymore creatures rushing by, he didn’t like the idea of being this close to the temple.

**“Yeah. I’ll get back to you soon. Shiro thinks he found a spot to meet up with you within the hour. I’ll give you the location, but will you be able to get away? They’re going to enhance security once they learn you were almost kidnapped.”**

“Hit me up with the place,” Lance said, “and let me worry about the sneaking out. Just get me the place and I’ll be there.”

Pidge did, and then said, **“Fine. How about no more dumb moves like tonight until we’re all on the same page?”**

Lance chuckled, looking over at Keith. But when he did, his stomach twisted. Keith’s chest heaved but no deep breath sounded out. His body leaned propped up against the wall because it looked like it needed it. His head was tilted down.

**“Guys?”**

“U-Uh, yeah. Got it. No worries there,” Lance said. “Stay safe.”

**“...Okay. You too.”**

The connection ended, leaving them detached from a part of Team Voltron once more. Lance stepped closer, touching Keith’s shoulder. “Keith?”

Keith’s eyes looked unfocused. His breathing came too quietly for someone who had been scrambling around corners and diving out of anyone’s line of sight.

“ _Keith_.”

Keith pinched his eyes, clutched the cloak tighter to his neck.

Lance frowned, scooting closer. “What’s wrong?” He peered back toward the general direction of the temple, the sharp edges of the island’s silhouette softened by the smoke still rising from the west. “Are you feeling the energy again?”

Keith looked reluctant, but gave a small nod. “I’m alright, just...feels weird,” he said. It wasn’t much, but Lance took the admission for all it was worth, particularly when it came from the likes of Keith who would be the type to walk on two broken legs.

Lance considered it before pressing his hand over Keith’s fist. “Let’s get back.”

Keith lifted his head, looking like that was the worst idea.

“I’m serious,” Lance said. “Look, things are covered here. Keith.” He gripped harder. “Keith. Trust me.”

They might have been magic words; Keith relaxed under the words and touch. Though he didn’t look thrilled at submitting to Lance’s suggestion, he turned away all the same back toward the citadel. He walked like a man haunted.

Lance knew he’d screwed something up between them (but to be fair, Keith didn’t make things easy, and this mission wasn’t going as smoothly either). Still, it felt wrong to let Keith tread back without assurance. Swallowing down whatever it was that made him nervous, Lance reached out and found Keith’s hand, supplying a tiny squeeze, if nothing else.

Keith began to squeeze back, then jerked his hand free and out of reach.

Yup. Still mad.

Lance grit his teeth and fisted his hand. They navigated back through the shadows in strained silence, and waited out sounds of guards.

When Lance finally spoke, it wasn’t anything about the tension between them or the budding fears of what was really going on in Laranta. Instead, he informed Keith of his idea to part ways right before the citadel. Of course, Keith couldn’t just accept it without having words about it.

“You’re going now?”

“I have to now,” Lance said. He kept his voice quiet, now that they were within the perimeters of the citadel. “Shiro should be there any minute. All you have to do is go in, play the would-be-kidnapped victim, which I know you hate, but do it, and tell them I went after them. You know. For your honor. Or something.”

Keith looked at him. More annoyed than worried, by the hardness of his gaze.  “You don’t even know the area well where you’re going. What if there are more mercs or-?”

“You sound worried about me.” Lance’s lip twitched.

Keith did not look amused. His eyes shifted lower, along Lance’s jaw where the discoloration was probably now mottling Lance’s beautiful complexion.

“Don’t look at it,” Lance said, tilting his face away. He coughed, averting eye contact. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed. “Look...can we, just, can we talk? Later.”

“All you seem capable of doing is talking, Lance.”

Lance met his gaze then, hard. Hell, they didn’t have time for this. He shook it off and looked toward the the citadel’s front entrance, flanked by more guards already.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Lance said, quieter.

Keith crossed his arms, huddled in the cloak. “Yeah. Fine.”

“Are you...going to be okay? You don’t feel weird or…?”

“Lance, I’m not a princess.”

“Hey, princesses can be tough. Look at Allura.”

Keith lifted his head, a touch of a smile on his lips. Barely more than a hint, but Lance was happy for it. Of all people to pull smiles out of (or suggestions of it), it seemed ridiculous that it would be from Keith. And somehow, Lance wanted to pull all of them out.

“I’ll be fine,” Keith said. “You?”

The playful-mocking tone, just barely there like that smile, brightened Lance’s face. “Pfft. Always. When am I not?”

Keith smoothed back the hood of his cloak before peeling it off entirely, preparing to make himself known to the guards and be swept back into the citadel. Lance turned, thinking it best to make his trip on rooftops where he could manage it.

Suddenly, Keith seized the back of his tunic, tugging him around.

Lance’s muscles pulled taut on instinct, and almost instantly melted under Keith’s arms. It was hardly an embrace, Keith’s fists in his shirt, their temples brushing against each other.

Keith said nothing, and then he was gone with all his warmth as fast as he’d grabbed Lance. His robes beneath billowed at his departure.

Lance’s heart hammered, face hot. He didn’t really process climbing out of sight and staying low as the guards swarmed Keith, barking out orders. Marik burst out from the entrance soon after, surprisingly frazzled as he rushed to Keith.

Unable to hear from this far off, Lance picked up on the facial cues and the way Keith gestured. He was ushered back inside. Just once, Keith glanced back over his shoulder.

Lance didn’t know if he was kidding himself thinking it was meant for him.

 **-x-**  

The Tickled Tendril was a tavern if Lance ever saw one.

When Pidge had supplied the general location and name, Lance didn’t know what to really expect on alien territory. Planet hopping had exposed Team Voltron to a wide collection of establishments, some seedier than others. Shiro often kept tight reins on the paladins in those cases, so Lance had to wonder if this was really the right spot.

Yet, somehow, Lance figured this place would work. Though he couldn’t see Shiro the type slumming it up over strong drinks, he thought the man could play the part well enough if he had to. Lance felt his nerves jittering. He reminded himself to play it cool.

It didn’t help that this part of town paled considerably to the capital. The red fabrics marking the celebration of fire looked more pink than burning red, and some of the non-floating buildings had a slight limp to them, like the deterioration was coming faster than the repairs could keep up with. Even the ground had uneven pavement, the streets not unlike welts.

Guess even a place like Laranta had these kinds of places.

Lance steadied his breath, and entered.

Inside, in lieu of the live-streaming holographs Lance was accustomed to back on Earth, this pub had old school ones that held the same scribble in place. Not much was on there either, but Lance figured this was the kind of place you visited knowing what you wanted, on or off the menu.

He tucked deeper into his cloak and pretended he wouldn’t stand out.

At this late hour, patrons peppered the tavern, spread out and stewing in private worlds they carved out in a corner of the room, with a drink at the center of it all. The alien behind the bar didn’t greet him but definitely took notice of him. Lance tread on by, scanning the patrons.

One lifted their head from beneath a hood, and Lance almost beamed at the familiarity of Shiro’s face. Feeling a little lighter, Lance played it nonchalant as he slid across from Shiro at the booth. He noticed a drink palmed in one of the man’s hands, untouched.

Lance took in a deep breath. Shiro’s head lifted a little more, and he smiled.

“Hey.”

Lance resisted the urge to grin back. “Hey,” he said, matching the tone. Few of the patrons were conversing, and none were loudly broadcasting their woes. The rest drank in personal silence.

“Were you waiting long?” Lance asked.

“No.” Shiro gave him a critical once-over. He frowned at the bruise.

Lance chuckled through his nose. “Think it’ll ruin my good looks?”

Shiro smiled again. “You’ve been through a lot. But, it’s good to see you. Looks like you’ve been pulling through like a champ.”

Lance grinned a little a that, then winced as it pulled on his face.

“Pidge filled me in,” Shiro said. “Did they get taken by the guards?”

“I think so. I didn’t get to really find out.”

Shiro nodded. “Right,” he said, fishing out something from his outfit. Lance noticed only now he was wearing gloves as he presented the chip to him.

Lance slipped his hand across, accepting it as inconspicuously as he could. He hesitated, peeking around.

“This place is safe,” Shiro said. “Well, enough.”

Lance wanted to ask him how he knew that. He wanted to ask him a lot of things. Instead, he asked, “Thanks.”

As if answering one of the unvoiced questions, Shiro whispered back, “Long story how we got that and had Pidge and Hunk work on it.”

Lance tensed. “Hunk’s not back with Coran?”

“Like I said, long story,” Shiro said, smile sympathetic. “After you got shot down, we had some change of plans. Sorry I can’t fill you in on everything just yet.”

“No, I get it.”

“Pidge will get in contact, but they said using that on an internal system will help.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Lance said, pocketing it. “We, uh, went by the temple earlier.”

Shiro didn’t look like he approved, but he also had a sense of priorities and saying something about that little decision wasn’t one of them. “There wasn’t anyone in there, luckily. But I definitely found it...I’m not sure how to describe it. Like something is in there.”

“Yeah. I get what you mean, even though it looks kind of boring and no guards or anything.” Lance thought of the eeriness in Keith’s gaze when they were close to it. “I, uh, hope this chip works."

“How’s Keith holding up?” It was one question, but Lance knew the tone had several more under it.

Lance sighed, shaking his head. “He’s...okay. I guess. I don’t know.”

Shiro looked at him, patient.

Lance exhaled a little harder and crossed his arms. “The sooner this is over, the better. But, I mean, he...looks the part. Even if he hates it.”

“Looks the part?”

Lance realized how dumb and uninformative that was. “Uh, that is...he’s good and all. Being like a princess. Managing. Or, something.” Shit, he was rambling.

Shiro raised a brow. Lance deflated a little and fought down a blush.

“I see,” Shiro said. It sounded he saw a lot more than Lance wanted him to.

Lance cleared his throat slightly and lowered his eyes. “Yeah, so, how are...you know? Things going on your end?”

Shiro tapped his drink. Lance wondered what it was. If maybe he could drown himself in a few of them and numb his feelings toward Keith about now. “A lot of unrest,” Shiro said quietly, “with a fair amount of civilians. Some of them support the mercenaries and pirates making a mess of things.”

“Enough to try and shoot down a ship with a political alliance on board?”

Shiro smiled his way again. “So you don’t think it was an accident either.”

“Well, after what happened tonight, no. Maybe they were trying to get us for a bounty, or,” Lance groaned, thinking. “One said they were trying to save us.”

"That doesn't sound good."

Lance sighed, but knew as well as the others pulling out now wasn’t an option. He thought of what could happen to those stuck in the crossfire of whatever unrest was spiraling out of Laranta’s control. He thought of Rodi and the moon natives.

“I think we’re supposed to meet with the monarch tomorrow for dinner,” Lance said. “She didn’t show up at the party tonight.”

“Can you get information from her?”

“I don’t know. She’s really keen. But sometimes what you don’t say is more important than what you do, right?”

Shiro made a noise through his nose.

“What?” Lance asked.

“You’re really showing your stuff here."

“Of course. I’m great like that. And an awesome escort.”

“So we’ve heard,” Shiro said. “How are you doing though?”

Lance shifted, studying Shiro’s drink again. He knew Shiro was just looking out for him, but Lance felt his bandages under his clothes and suddenly felt like Shiro probably knew they were there.

“I’m good,” Lance said. “No problems here.” He cleared his throat, eager to deviate the subject off his near-death experiences, “but…”

“But?”

“I can’t stop wondering about the energy Keith talked about.”

“Pidge mentioned he’s sensing it. Allura said she feels it too, though I think it’s weaker for her.”

Lance’s head snapped up. “She does?”

“Yes,” Shiro said, touching his chin, “and I think there’s more about it than she’s been comfortable telling me right now. Not like we had a lot of time to talk though.”

“Huh.” Lance sank back, considering that. “But she’s kind of prone to feeling stuff too, right? Or maybe interact with it. Remember the Balmera?”

“Yeah, I think it might be something unique to her, being who she is as an Altean princess. Possibly.”

“What about Keith?”

Shiro lowered his hand, eyes narrowing. “Didn’t he say he was drawn to energy back on Earth?”

“Yeah, it was Blue.” Lance followed Shiro’s thinking before any of it was verbalized. He straightened, leaning over the table between them. “Hunk was able to figure out a way to track that energy down. Maybe he could do it again after Pidge gets our comms all up and running.”

Shiro blinked. “Huh. It’d be worth a try. Whatever it is, it’s strong. It might point us right to where we need to go.”

Lance nodded, remembering something else. “Oh. Here.” He made sure no one was still spying before tugging out the folded sheets of drawings. He passed them over, giving the place one more sweep to ensure no ears were aimed their way.

Shiro studied the graphs, smoothing his hand over them. “What are these?”

Lance gave him the truncated version of how he found the documents. “I didn’t write much of the alien gibberish down. I figure you and Allura have a better chance of seeing Hunk before I do.” He hesitated, sinking back. “It...might be nothing, I just--”

“No,” Shiro said, frowning at it. “You had a feeling to copy these down. That means it’s worth looking into.”

Lance perked up. “Well, I just found it kind of weird they were actual paper documents.”

After all, these days if you want something kept private, you didn’t rely on any holographic writing systems, which always had a percentage of being hacked. Lance watched Shiro’s eyebrows furrowing. Scooting closer, he asked, “Does it mean anything to you?”

“I’m not sure.” Shiro pinched his eyes shut for a moment as if digging through blurred memories. Lance kept quiet. When Shiro opened his eyes again, he folded the docs and concealed them into his clothing. “I’ll see what I can do to get these to him.”

“Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”

Shiro looked at him, and Lance could tell their time was winding down.

“Hang in there a little longer,” Shiro said.

“Hey, it’s me you’re talking to. I’m good at hanging.” Lance drummed his fingers on his thighs, gathering his nerves. By the nod Shiro gave him, Lance figured he should leave first. He was pushing it with time as it was and still had to make his way back.

Lance shimmied out of the booth with a parting look.

“Lance.”

Lance lingered by the table, expectant. He couldn’t make out Shiro’s expression well under the hood anymore.

“Be careful,” Shiro said. “Both of you.”

Lance wanted to promise that. It would feel like a lie though, so he provided a smile in lieu of a promise, letting Shiro take it as he would.

Then, as he turned to make his way to the exit, two guys sauntered on in. Big guys. Lance tucked his head down, deviating around so he wouldn’t bump into them. But they were loitering, serpent-like eyes sweeping the place, hunting. They were predators out for a prey.

Lance acted like he had no reason to be targeted, and when the two aliens ambled their way to the barkeep, he thought he was in the clear. He couldn’t understand what was being muttered by the barkeep, but suddenly he was gesturing a claw toward where Shiro still sat.

And then at Lance.

_Shit._

Shiro didn’t wait, bolting up and dashing after Lance. “Run!” He yanked Lance’s arm once, and that was all it took for Lance to tear his way out of the bar and into the twisted alleys. He could have sworn he heard the barkeep saying after them, ‘No hard feelings, just business’.

“Um, an update please?!” Lance chased Shiro’s even breaths, sticking to his shadow when they broke through the clearings between buildings.

“My guess is they’re after that chip.” Shiro staggered to a stop between two tall buildings that were dotted with lights and tiny balconies high above. Some kind of hotel maybe.

“What, _why_?” Lance gasped, clutching his chest. Man, was he ever catching a break today? “And didn’t you say that place was safe?”

“I’m pretty sure I said ‘safe enough’,” Shiro said, and Lance was going to press on the _why_ of everything again when he realized they’d been cornered. From either side of the alley’s openings, big aliens prowled closer.

“Right. Of course,” Lance felt Shiro’s back against his. “I take it you guys took it from someone and they want it back.”

“Someone else wanted to crack into the system besides us,” Shiro offered in quick explanation. As if sensing the strained morality in that statement alone, he added, “Long story.”

Lance groaned. "Another one?"

One of Shiro’s gloved hands buzzed, and Lance knew it was prepped for battle. It was the only preamble Lance had to prep himself. He suddenly wished he kept the blaster from the alien that had tried to kidnap them.

The alien approaching Lance did not have a gun, but the metal rods in his hands, crackling with electricity, didn’t look inviting. Lance hoped they’d want to talk first, and could utilize some of that time to figure a way out.

The aliens charged.

Lance pushed off Shiro, and waited for the right moment. Metal rods hit the pavement. Lance leapt off beefy forearms and went for the neck. His long legs snaked around a thick neck just the way Allura had taught (forced) them, riding the momentum and letting gravity do the rest.

They both crashed down, Lance on top. Before he struck the next blow, a rod went up. Barely saw it, rolled away, got swiped on the thigh. He cried out at the jolt that fireworked through his leg, paralyzing his lower body.

Least it wasn’t his face?

It was all the time the asshole needed to gather his wits and stagger back up. Lance scrambled out of the way, willing his leg to keep moving, to rush after Shiro. The man had the other alien in a headlock. Lance called out. Shiro let go, in time for Lance to land a kick to the other alien’s face and knock him out cold.

Shiro blinked down, grinned his thanks, then shoved Lance out of the way.

The rods bounced off his robotic arm. Shiro snagged one and returned the attempt just before Lance kicked the brute’s legs out from under itself. The alien went down in a shuddering heap.

“You okay?” Shiro asked.

“Never better.” Lance was letting himself rest against the wall, just for a few breaths. He could afford that, right? He had yet to sleep, and his heart had been through the wringer. Up, down, up again, mind in a whirl. And he still had the journey to make back to the citadel. Too many coats of fatigue, all painting a tired, ugly picture.

“Do you hear that?” Lance breathed, stepping away from the wall.

Shiro he glanced up, Lance did the same and noticed the faint sounds of aliens murmuring, having caught the sounds of a scuffle down below. Great.

“I think more are coming too,” Shiro said.

Double great.

“I’ll keep their attention on me.” Shiro looked at Lance directly. “You need to get back fast.”

“What? By yourself?”

Shiro grasped one of his shoulders in a gentle squeeze. “We need you to get back. Keith needs you.”

Lance didn’t know why the way Shiro said it made it mortifying. He was grateful the cowl was all kinds of great fabric and had stayed on, hiding his features. More so now than before.

He nodded, and took off.

The chip in his pocket felt outweighed only by his heart.

**-x-**

Keith’s first words upon his return were: “You look like shit.”

“Wow, really. That’s what you’re going with?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“You could pretend to sound a little more moved by my return,” Lance said. Hell, even Mirak had more of a gracious response than Keith. The guide had actually raked his gaze over Lance, offered a medic, both praised and lightly chastised his actions for going after the made-up kidnapper that escaped (what a shame that he got away from Lance, as the story went).

Upon returning and playing his words right to flustered servants and stunned guards, Lance was greeted with the sight of Mirak in their room. Figures. It was only Keith’s convincing that had gotten them time alone without Mirak hovering over. 

The air thickened the moment Mirak left. Lance felt little relief in his departure and was still doubled over, trying to regain his strength.

He had found Keith looking more refreshed, as if he’d showered off the worst of the night. Now that he had the privacy to look, he noted bits of his hair stuck to his neck, only exposed in yet another new garment he wore. It must have been some kind of night-wear, the robes lighter, the designs diluted to a simple pattern along the hems. It looked out of the same material of the one Lance picked out. And still just as good on him.

Keith narrowed his attention. It made Lance want to shrink up and yell at him at the same time.

He did neither of the two; he dug out the chip and showed it off, his smile tight around the corners. “After all,” Lance said, “I got this.”

“And what’s that going to do?”

“Tap into the system.” Lance knew he was avoiding the opportunity to talk things out with Keith. Just as he knew (and yet didn’t, because self-awareness went only as far as you wanted it to), he had the custom of directing a serious topic onto something else entirely. Preferably on something awesome about himself, but he’d settle for telling Keith what had transpired.

“You were chased?” Keith finally looked something else other than annoyed. “Is that why you look--”

“So dashing and not winded at all? Yes.”

Keith growled, and scraped his fingers through his hair. Lance felt the ire like an energy feeding off the tension between them. After a deep breath, Keith asked, “Shiro was okay?”

“He played bait, but yeah, I’m sure he’s okay.” Lance didn’t miss the way Keith visibly relaxed around the shoulders at that.

It was petty, but it made Lance ask something stupid: “Did...ah, did Marik say anything?”

At first, Keith looked like he wouldn’t answer, as if not understanding the question.Then, crossing his arms, he said, “They took the guys that tried to kidnap us. Said they were trying to get some coin from it.”

“Convenient explanation.”

“Gets worse.” Keith jerked his thumb. “Marik put two guards below our balcony and two more at the one above us.”

Whoopie. That meant for sure sneaking out wouldn’t be so feasible. Do-able, probably, if Lance really wanted to though. He glanced over at the windows, double checking they were already closed, the curtains drawn.

“He wouldn’t stop apologizing,” Keith said, shrugging a shoulder. “He feels he should have known better. Doubt he’d let us interrogate the mercs ourselves.”

“Has he been here the whole time?” Lance asked, hating it came out with a little bite.

Keith’s eyebrows went up. “Yeah.”

“Did anything...happen?”

“Huh? No, I didn’t sleep or anything when he was around. We just talked.”

“Oh.” Lance’s gaze went up and down Keith’s body, “Your, uh, clothes.”

Keith raised both shoulders, not understanding the actual question beneath the comment.

“Marik brought them, right?”

At that, Keith scowled. “Don’t start about him again.”

“I’m not starting anything. I was just-”

“ _Don’t._ ”

“Don’t what!”

“Don’t act like...like some kid who starts crying when someone else touches his toy.”

“What?! I am not _crying_ and that...that’s not it!”

“I’m not stupid, Lance.”

“We can argue that point later, but--”

A crackle was the only warning before the screech of Lance’s ear piece shut him right up. He grimaced, probably cursed, and clamped his hand down on it. Keith must have heard it as well, given the way he’d tensed up and touched his own ear.

**“Well, that worked.”**

Lance felt the wind knocked out of him. He’d completely forgotten about Pidge. “ _Jesus_ , Pidge, did you have to blow out our ear drums?”

**“I come in to hear you two going at it. What else was I supposed to do?”**

“Maybe _tell_ us you were listening,” Keith said. Sounding pissier than his standard level.

 **“Yeah, because just telling you guys to listen. _Th_** ** _at_ ** **always works.”**

Lance blew out a heavy dose of his annoyance, looking away from Keith. He felt breathless still, as if startled from a dream. In a way, Pidge had shaken them back to reality. “Forget it, Pidge. We were...it’s nothing.”

**“You two need to pull it together. I’d ask what’s really going on, but we’re kind of pressed for time. Universe to save, anyone?”**

Lance and Keith shared a short-lived look. If nothing else, they could agree with that sentiment. Shit, though. Still sucked.

Lance rubbed his forehead where he knew lines were forming. “Yeah. Right.” He listened to Pidge, a difficult feat when he could feel Keith’s glare burrowing past his defenses. He turned slightly away, only sneaking glances. “Wait, _what_ was that part again?”

**“Allura found it on some noble that had gone to the party.”**

Lance remembered Keith’s briefing about his dance with Allura. “She had mentioned tailing someone…Does that mean you and Hunk are nearby? Shiro said you had worked on it.”

**“Yes. I can’t keep you updated on everything when I don’t trust the connections.”**

“This better be worth all of it then,” Lance said, chip out on his palm.

**“A drone would be an easy target and usually easy to hack into…”**

“Yeah, not going to happen,” Lance said. “None of those arounds. Plus, they’re really watching us now, so…” Another peek at Keith. This time, his brain registered the intercommunications system behind the Red Paladin. “Hold up.”

**“What is it?”**

Lance moved forward, ignoring the way his heart somersaulted when he brushed by Keith to reach the screen that they’d only employed a handful of times. It wasn’t fancy, compiled of touchscreen tech that wasn’t revolutionary. “Our intercom. But I don’t see how a chip could be put in it.”

**“It’s not an old school kind of chip. Let’s try it out.”**

Lance flipped over the little device. “You sure it’s...not going to come back to us?”

**“Lance.”**

“Yeah?”

**“Just shut up and do what I tell you.”**

Lance did, if begrudgingly. Per Pidge's instructions, he smoothed the chip against the screen. It stuck, and then with a faint crackle, dissolved right on in. Lance blinked and poked the place it had been.

"Whoa. It just...disappeared."

**"Not easy tech. Good thing Allura had the sense to take it."**

Lance recalled Shiro's slight guilt about the chip. "How exactly did she take it again?" 

**"Not important. I'm cutting out now, guys. It looks like it's working."**

Lance hoped all the work to get the darn thing was worth it. "Okay, so-"

**"Later, Lance. I'll let you know what I find, provided you two haven't strangled each other."**

"Funny," Lance said. 

Pidge disconnected.

They were alone.

Again.

God, Lance was tired. The pain in his face had alleviated to a dull ache, and his leg felt cramped from where the rod had hit him. Even his back was feeling tight again, his leg tingling like it was ready to give out.

He let his head bump against the wall a moment. Keith’s gaze was intense, a power of its own. Or maybe it was amplified by whatever the hell was going on in this place. Lance exhaled hard and opened his eyes, staring at the marble flooring and his reflection.

“You’re not a toy, Keith," he said, softly.

Keith’s voice was quieter, but no less sharper. “Then don’t treat me like one.”

"I don't."

"Then why act weird about Marik?"

"I don't trust him," Lance said, confident in that truth. Still, he didn't turn around.

"I think you're the one that's the shitty liar around here, Lance."

Lance finally turned around to look at him. “What are you talking about?"

Keith threw his hands up in the air, groaning. “I swear, Lance, you really can be the most dense person in the whole universe! Dense, wishy-washy, a pain in my ass!”

“Wishy-washy?” Lance scoffed. This was not how he had wanted the ‘talking’ to go.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” Keith marched closer with each step. Lance didn’t realize he was backing up. That he didn’t have much _to_ back up to.

“I _don’t_.”

“There it is,” Keith said, pointing. He was close enough that if he extended his arm, he’d poke Lance right in the nose.

“What is?”

“Playing dumb, or brushing it off with a joke.”

Lance felt his back bump against the wall. His heart was clamoring up his throat now, making it hard to speak coherently. “That doesn’t sound like me.”

“Let me remind you then. You brushed me off last time, right here on the bed--”

Lance felt the blush hit his face like another punch. “That...That was…”

“What? What was it?”

“You had a bad dream. And I...I didn’t know if you were like, tipsy. I’m not a creep, you know!”

“I wasn’t tipsy.”

“I didn’t know that!”

“You’re making up excuses, Lance.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay. Look at me now, then.”

Lance did look. How could he not? It was like half this mission was comprised of him finding reasons to gawk at Keith.

“I’m fine right now, Lance.”

Lance’s breath caught, eyes dropping to Keith’s mouth. Back up to the deep color of his eyes. Definitely pretty. “Just...stop talking, Keith. I’ve had a long day, okay?”

Keith was in his space now, but he didn’t invade further. He hung at the edge of it, his eyes fierce, his body poised like he was ready to attack. Lance’s fingers twitched, body screaming to move.

“Fine. Then make me stop talking,” Keith said, voice so low Lance almost didn’t hear it over his thundering heart. “Or let me walk away.”

Everyone knew Keith was the rash one, a creation of impulses and gut-instinct. It wasn’t a good idea to forget Lance had his share of urges too: he seized Keith, and knew just how they both wanted to shut Keith up.

Keith’s mouth met his halfway.

It was deep, a manifestation of emotions piling up in too short a time span. A delicious, hot manifestation. Lance moaned, aching to go back and having done this sooner. Life was short, so much shorter for a band of humans battling for the freedom of the universe. He should have shut Keith up long ago like this.

Lance’s hands smoothed over lines he’d gotten to know when they danced. He shivered as Keith’s hands chased lines through his hair, angling their mouths just right, pulling their bodies deeper into the embrace.

Keith made a sweet sound when Lance spun them and pushed him against the wall. The kiss broke, long enough for a deep breath before Keith dragged him back down. Lance let him, would let Keith’s hand take him into the deepest pits if it meant they could stay a little longer like this.

Hell, he had it bad didn’t he.

Lance whined as Keith withdrew his mouth, teasing him to chase after it. Lance did, obediently following the pull and tugs of Keith’s hands until they went down. The bed, so plump and rich, didn’t so much as creak under their weight.

Right there, Lance stopped himself, hands on either side of Keith’s head. He stared down, committing the smallest detail to a memory Lance would remember even at a ripe old age. From the barest way Keith’s mouth was parted, to every strand of his hair sticking to his pattern-colored cheeks.

Beautiful. Keith really was beautiful. Not fragile beauty, like porcelain. Strong beauty.

Lance let his eyes sweep down, take appreciative notes on the way Keith’s robes had loosened during their moment up against the wall. It revealed bits of his naked skin, and, of course, the stockings he still wore beneath.

“Shit.”

Lance knew his face couldn’t get hotter, but somehow it must have at the sound Keith made. Lance’s eyes jumped back up, saw a smile on Keith’s face. Small, and fond. Lance wanted to see more of this, and less of the fatigue in his eyes.

Lance swallowed. They’d kissed. They’d really kissed. He’d kissed Keith.

Damn.

Keith’s expression shifted. Lance realized he’d been staring too long, and might have been looking like he was ready to bolt again. There was still a part of him that wanted him to run, because the way Keith was stroking his arm was perilous territory. The way he had been looking at Lance a warning that this wasn’t just a product of too much time together and pent up tension from their mission. Not fleeting.

Lance, frayed nerves and all, leaned down. He remembered their lips being this close earlier, a lifetime ago it felt, and how Keith would have let him kiss him before. The way Keith stroked his jaw was divine, mindful of his injury. Their noses brushed once, and then they kissed again. Slower, languid, as though they had all the time in the world just for this, whatever this was.

When Keith kissed back, Lance lowered himself. He wanted to try all kinds of kisses with Keith. He liked the ferocity of the fast ones, and the enchantment of these lazy ones. And when Keith’s hands did that thing through his hair again, Lance knew he was hopeless.

Moving the kiss down, Lance finally indulged in Keith’s neck. His own groan mingled with Keith’s as his mouth worked a spot that made the other squirm slightly. One hand traveled down, feeling the rich fabric bunching up around Keith’s thighs.

Lance stopped, feeling his muscles getting tight the lower his hands went.

“Lance.”

Keith touched his face, gently on the bruised side. The pressure was enough to rattle Lance from his overthinking. Keith drew him down for another, glorious kiss. His robes hiked up as his legs lifted, spreading more for Lance.

“Hot,” Lance blurted out against his mouth. Not what he meant to say. Parts of his brain must be frying. His injuries felt numb compared to the thick, heavy feeling spreading throughout his body because Keith touched him, looked at him the way he did now.

Keith smiled faintly against the kiss, and suddenly his hands, way hotter than the clothes, crept under Lance’s tunic. God, yes to all that. Lance knew he was shuddering under the touch more than he wanted to.

Keith’s fingers caressed him over the bandages, and Lance could almost believe his touch could heal all aches. They couldn’t, but the muscles relaxed and the earlier tension ebbed.

“Where else did you get hurt?” Keith asked.

“No where.”

Lance was all kinds of aroused and buckled under one hard look. “My left thigh.”

One of Keith’s hands lowered onto said thigh. Lance quivered.

As Keith tugged up his tunic, it let Lance feel the softness of the stocking against his hip. He really shuddered then, and finally, at long last, let his hand rest on Keith’s knee. He looked down, admiring the look and feel as his hand traced the curves of Keith’s calf, back up, hesitantly grazing the delicate area of his inner thigh.

He bit his lip, but Keith was letting him go on. He dared a little more, slipping his hand higher up under the robe, feeling how high the material went.

“Shit,” he said. Again.

Keith propped up slightly, reaching over to start peeling them off. Lance stopped him.

“What?” Keith asked.

Lance didn’t want to answer so openly. “I...uh...can you...leave them on?”

Keith quirked a brow. Lance kind of wanted to die, but also had a hell of a lot more to live for. But Keith didn’t object, and Lance was given free reign to feel his legs all the way up to his hips. This, he decided, he could do for hours.

As Keith tugged his upper body back for another kiss, Lance also decided he could do this forever.

Above all the arousal, the adrenaline, and tingly nerves, Lance felt something more rewarding. Like a piece of him was back home. Maybe that made it so easy to say, “I like shutting you up.”

Keith looked like the choice of wording could be better. “It was you that needed shutting up.”

Lance smiled faintly at that. Keith smiled back. The fatigue felt bearable.

When Keith angled his chin back, beckoning, Lance lowered his head again.

**“Guys, we have a problem.”**

Both of them tensed in unison, moment squandered by the voice too loud to ignore in their ear pieces. Should have chucked them. Lance groaned, dropping his head into Keith’s shoulder.

“Not now, Pidge.”

 **“What the heck do you mean** **_not now_ ** **.”**

“Your timing sucks is what I mean,” Lance said, sitting up and feeling doused in the cold sobriety of reality. It almost felt like what had happened was a dream. But when Keith sat up next to him, resting a hand on his hurt thigh, Lance knew it wasn't. Somehow, that was scarier than if it had been a dream. In a good way.

**“Are you drunk or something?”**

Probably. In a way. But Lance said, “Uh, I mean, never mind. It’s nothing.” He glanced at Keith, and totally did not shyly put his hand over Keith’s.

“What’s wrong, Pidge?” Keith asked. His face was still flushed, hair disheveled in honor of the makeout session.

**“Listen, I’ll keep it simple. The stuff I was hacking into seemed familiar. You letting me have straight access into the system showed me why.”**

Lance and Keith shared a look, shrugging simultaneously.

**“Guys, Laranta’s got Galra tech.”**

Neither of them understood the implications right away. Lance was the first to recover. Standing, he began to pace. “Whoa, _whoa_ , hold up. What do you mean they got Galra tech?” It couldn't be. This had to be part of a dream. A nightmare in the making. 

**“I mean this is stuff I've seen before. It’s been implanted into their systems.”**

“Implanted." Lance stopped pacing. "Like--”

**“Like it’s not an accident.”**

Keith’s eyes were wide, his breath shaky. “No way…”

**“Yes. The Galra have their hands on Laranta already.”**

Lance felt it right then and there. Shiros and Allura’s intel of unrest, the appearance of mercenaries, and the force that was affecting Keith, all aligned under the this new revelation. The Galra had gotten here before them. Lance's mind spun with questions, but none he could voice over the dread rising above them all.  

Right in the very pits of Lance’s core where Blue linked with him, he knew something far worse was coming.

 

**-X-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for such a delay. Work's been extra busy. Re-reading your comments got me to finally get this chapter out. 
> 
> I feel like we're finally moving things along to the big parts of the story! I'd love to hear your thoughts if you have the time. I have a problem writing makeout sessions. I want them to go on forever but I hope it didn't feel that way.
> 
> As always, thank you again (grovels)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, it worked out perfectly this way: pulling Lance deeper against his mouth, hugging his waist, chasing tremors down his back with a fingertip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh gosh thanks so much for the continued feedback. I swear this chapter is mostly long due to NSFW stuff.

 

Keith called Lance’s name.

Again.

Neither he nor Lance had much peace since Pidge’s report. It had been nothing short of verbal chaos once the questions poured and theories developed. It made for a headache, and Keith was partially glad when Pidge had to cut off to finish tinkering with things and poking around the system.

It was just them again, with a great weight crushing them now.

Keith watched the way Lance would not stand _still_.

Another try: “Lance.”

Lance seemed always to be physically responsive to situations, but Keith didn’t think Lance realized the habit. Paired with his penchant for rambling, and Keith had a full on migraine coming.

And Keith had figured he was the restless one.

Keith clenched his hands, forcing himself to release some of his aggravation. The Galra struck every nerve in him. His mind didn’t chase pointless questions like Lance did, but his own response to Pidge’s warning wasn’t any better.

He could feel the whispers start when he tensed up, as if beckoning. Keith didn’t want to submit.

Lance was still rambling, probably not having heard his name called.

The whispers turned to a hiss, inarticulate, but desperate all the same. Keith shoved off the bed and marched to Lance, grabbing his forearms.

“ _Lance._ ” Louder. Annoyed. This time, Lance met his eyes. He looked exhausted, bruises marring any sign that Lance prioritized beauty sleep above all else. When he walked, he had a weak limp, and his face still had the recent prize of one fight.

“If you don’t stop talking, I’m going to have to make you stop.” There was an attempt at humor, but Keith knew he wasn’t good at that kind of thing.

It must have worked. Lance relaxed under his touch.

“You trying to talk reason?” Lance asked. “Wow, things really are going to shit.”

Keith couldn’t help the smirk, even if the comment irritated him the way plenty of Lance’s comments did.

Lance licked his lips, glancing down at Keith’s hands. Slowly, as if he was trying to prove he wasn’t timid (but Keith was learning that, in a way, Lance totally was), he slid his hands to grab Keith’s.

It was a small gesture that accounted for much more. Lance even flicked his eyes up to briefly hold onto Keith’s before they’d drop again. His face seemed incapable of keeping a blush away. It was...cute, Keith decided.

“The monarch has to know,” Lance whispered. “How can she not?”

Keith brought their foreheads together.It calmed the energy calling to him. “If she does, we’ll find out.”

Lance didn’t shy away from the touch. “This is eerie,” he eventually said.

“What is?”

“You not trying to barge out and demand answers.”

“One of us has to stay sane.”

“Hey. I resent that.”

Keith smiled faintly, but couldn’t muster what he needed to make sense of all this. Maybe it was because Lance looked like he needed the assurance, or because if Keith didn’t keep check of himself, the energy might become more real than he gave it credit for. He had talked endlessly with Marik as an attempt to forget it. If the guide knew anything about Galra, Keith couldn’t say that conversation had revealed anything.

They’d talked about anything but politics. Now Keith didn’t know how to approach Marik with this new information. If he even could.

Keith exhaled shakily.

“Keith?”

Keith didn’t realize he’d shut his eyes. He leaned back, taking in Lance’s concern. It was weird to see it somewhat open on the other’s face. Or it could be that Lance was too tired to keep his expressions under wraps.

“You okay?” Lance asked.

“Yeah.” Keith knew they both their minds were running on fumes. They’d thrown enough ideas around, about the graphs, about the civilians, of how the Galra could have infiltrated so intimately without the hint of their presence. Nothing solid.

“I want to barge out and get answers,” Keith admitted.

Lance’s half-smile was a comfortable sight. “Let’s not go guns blazing like psychos,” he said, sweeping his thumb over the back of Keith’s knuckles. “Not yet anyway.” He sighed heavily. “Tomorrow’s coming soon. You should try to rest.”

It was a little harder to protest with Lance stroking circles on his hands. Keith glanced to the locked door, knowing they would do little resting tonight. For Lance’s sake, he said, “Yeah.”

They ended up tucked into the bed together, and with some maneuvering, they settled with Lance spooning Keith from behind. Keith grounded himself in the warmth of Lance’s body, of his chest as he breathed, and their hands still holding tight.

Exhausted, Keith surprised himself by dozing off.

**-x-**

Keith saw the light from afar.

He felt grounded this time, warmth keeping him secured in the cold of the white light.

It was a lonely, bitter cold.

It pulsed, acknowledging him. Then, again, almost pleading.

Keith made himself watch it.

 **-x-**  

“Are you sure about this?” Lance asked. It’s the fourth time he’s asked the question, with slight variations (i.e.g ‘sooo, you’re doing this still.’).

“Yes.” Keith had not changed his answer on that, though his stomach fluttered. Dinner with the monarch had been bumped up to breakfast. It had been tense receiving Marik’s news about this, now that they knew of the Galra infiltration. It had been less tense remembering waking up with Lance cuddled into his arms. Lance was a bonafide snuggler when he slept next to someone.

Keith, who had always been a light sleeper, thought he could get use to it.

Now, Keith adjusted his collar, inhaling deeply. He glared sideways at Lance, who had already fixed his bed hair (Keith also thought he could get use to that). “Stop staring.”

Lance’s shoulders rose. “Sorry, but can you blame me for thinking they’re going to jump you once we’re alone with her?”

“They don’t know we know,” Keith said. Plus, he had the comfort of his dagger against his person, to which Lance reminded him he couldn’t exactly use it. Whatever. It was more mental reassurance than anything else.  “You said that yourself,” Keith added.

Lance muttered something Keith couldn’t pick up.

Marik knocked on the doors. Keith wondered if the guy ever slept, only thinking it now because he was sure he was tiredness in Marik's gaze.

"You look splendid," Marik said, with a polite bow of his head. "This way. I shall escort you."

Everything suddenly felt alien in the citadel. Everything was a potential threat from the Galra. More than once, Keith felt Lance prod him in the back to focus his attention on his current role. A warrior’s gaze swept the lands for danger; a royal’s did not. Keith forced his attention on Marik’s mane-like hair. The route was one that brought them two stories up and to a room with two large doors with a pattern Keith thought he'd seen before.

A final mental pick-me-up, and Keith went inside.

The room held the necessities of a private dinner. Still extravagant by comparison to Keith’s experience with dinner, which at best constituted Hunk’s experimenting in the castle. The monarch, of course, was not in yet. As if someone of her status ever let herself wait for anyone.

A window stretched one side of the wall, facing the moon that was still visible at this time of day. Little else could be seen at this height. If all went terribly wrong, they could always jump out the window, right? Lance had been able to do it after all.

Keith followed Marik’s gesture to come to the end of the table, just as the monarch appeared at the door. She’d done herself up in shades of blue, something expensive dangling off her shoulders. Not that she needed it to look imposing.

"You look well, Your Eminence," she said in greeting. She eyed his garments. "I see Marik has chosen to stick with your natural color today."

Keith blinked, glancing at Marik for a heartbeat.

"It suits him best," was all Marik said. 

Keith looked back at the blues on the monarch, and remembered the festivals going on. For some reason, he felt Marik's words were almost a challenge to the monarch's comment. Weird. Keith decided it wasn't important what color he wore.

"I like red," Keith said.

“Marik is not wrong. It suits you." The monarch took her place at the table. "I apologize for the overdue meeting. I confess things have been more demanding than I would like upon your arrival."

“It’s okay.” Keith took to a high-back seat, where he would sit across the monarch on a humble table. Just enough space for precautions, but not too long that the distance between them was rude.

As he sat, he added, “Marik has shown us plenty in the meantime. It’s been...eye-opening.”

“I am glad to hear of that. Not to mention you had your fill of excitement at the ball the other night.”

Keith knew she meant the attack and kidnapping, but his mind flew back to dancing with Lance. Clearing his throat, he couldn’t help give a quick glance around. Six personal guards, four attendants, Marik, and Lance, who took a respectable distance behind and the side of Keith.

“For that,” the monarch said, and Keith jumped his eyes back to her, “I owe you great apologies. For an attack to happen during your arrival. It does not boast well for our alliance, does it?”

Right to the point. Keith hesitated as an attendant poured him a rich, dark liquid and another slipped a bowl of what might be a kind of salad. _Think before you speak_ , he reminded himself. It sounded more like Lance’s voice than his own.

“I wasn’t hurt, and...your people responded quickly.” Keith slowly reached for a utensil. “It’s not your fault if a bounty is on me now.”

The monarch’s eyes stayed on him as she took a sip of her drink and waved an attendant to fill it to the brim. “So we’ve heard. The captured fellows said as much. They had nothing useful beyond that to say.”

Convenient. Keith stabbed a piece of his meal and made himself eat. So it began.

Keith couldn’t pretend he had any control in steering the conversation to his preference. The best he could do was keep up and not let the monarch’s interest drown him in self-doubt. He kept his replies short, but not rude (Lance had a whole monologue about being curt versus being brief), and he made sure his attention didn’t stray off the monarch too much.

When she brought up the topic of his homeland (the fake one), Keith ate slower, picking his brain through all the lessons Coran had grilled him on. Under each of his answers, he forced down the surge of questions he had of his own. Just as he forced down the suspicion that now the Galra would ambush them.

And even deeper under all that, the power of this planet was not waning. It’s as if it had hooked a permanent hold into Keith, fed his agitation and encouraged him to end this ruse and demand answers to what he and Lance really wanted to know.

Lance’s hand was suddenly on his arm. Keith jerked his eyes up, but only found Lance assisting in refilling his drink. At the same time, the Blue Paladin squeezed his arm gently.

Keith calmed down and swallowed hard.

“I think we may have an agreement in the workings,” the monarch was saying. Keith didn’t know what part of the meal they were at anymore. “Your people could find refuge here. We could utilize your resources against the Galra.”

 _You can’t. They’re already here._ Keith forced a nod and gratitude.

“Will you tell us again the story of your liberation?” she then asked.

Keith did, having the bulk of it memorized. When the monarch gently pressed on the details of Voltron, Keith kept the reins tight on his tale. The details of destruction and battle, however, were all too real, as was his feelings toward Zarkon. On multiple occasions, Keith had to squeeze his hands fiercely on his lap as a pitiful conduit to the rising anger.

The monarch had stopped eating, observing him, maybe even a little entranced. “Voltron,” she said when he’d gone quiet.

Keith held her gaze. “What about it?”

“The tales of the legendary Voltron died long, long ago,” she said. “Once a beacon of hope, and then it was taken from us. I almost could not believe when you first told me of Voltron’s return.”

Keith didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Voltron is real, and I believe it _will_ stop the Galra.” He could feel Lance’s gaze land on him, but Keith ignored it. “Voltron gave us a new life, but it can’t protect us all the time.”

“So the word that Voltron is liberating worlds is true,” the monarch said, almost whispered it. For an instant, Keith thought her gaze looked distant. “My family knew King Alfor. He was a good king.”

Keith tensed. “They...knew him?”

“So you know of him.”

Shit. Keith bit his tongue for a moment, then risked saying, “It’s his daughter that came to save us with Voltron.”

The monarch’s eyes widened. Keith was surprised any reaction made it to her face. “Princess Allura lives?”

“She does. I don’t...know much beyond that.”

“Generations ago, many, many generations ago, we had a relationship. It was always a happy affair when King Alfor made his trip to this part of the universe, and we would fortify our relationship for peace. And then...he was gone. All of Altea. Gone.”

Keith didn’t know what to say that. He was surprised Lance had the willpower to stay quiet during all of this too. The energy radiating off the other Paladin, however, told him that Lance was anything but calm.

“I’m sorry,” Keith said, thinking it was the best thing to say.

“Do not apologize.” The monarch leaned back, clearing her throat. Whatever had gone through her head, Keith thought it had almost softened her. A little. “That gives us hope, doesn’t it? We are not alone against the Galra anymore.”

Keith faintly nodded.

The monarch gave a little sigh, smiling again. “What fate that Voltron saves your planet, and you reach out to us.”

Keith frowned. “I don’t know if I’d call it fate.”

“What else could it be that you of all creatures feels our planet’s power?”

Keith’s blood fell cold. He stumbled mentally, hard, at what she’d just said.

Her smile tilted, but what might have once been a sharp edge to it was dulled down. Keith wondered what kind of frightening ruler she could have been, or maybe once was. He reached for his drink to buy himself time.

“Marik,” she said when he took too long, “tells me you sense the energy.”

Keith held his breath. His eyes flicked back to the monarch, hand tightening on his drink, feeling the pressure of his dagger. He resisted looking at Marik. Shit. What should he say? He licked his lips.

The monarch gestured at him, like she could soothe him. “I understand if it makes you feel uncomfortable to discuss. It is a powerful force, isn’t it?”

Keith wanted to look at Lance. Made himself not do it. “You...So there is a power?”

“Of course. It is what has kept our universe from befalling the Galra.”

 _Lies_. Keith wanted to shout it. Or maybe she truly didn’t know. It wouldn’t be the first time someone else pulled at the strings of a ruler.

Keith slowly removed his hand off his glass and rested it in his lap again. “Can you tell me about it?”

“Why don’t you tell me of it. Do you feel it now?”

Keith clenched his hands. He pressed his lips firmly, but the monarch’s gaze held calm and sure. Gradually, Keith relaxed and shut his eyes. With the silence stretching throughout the room, Keith could make a weak pulse of the energy.

“Yes,” he confessed, eyes still shut. “Like it wants to...talk to me. It’s not just energy. It’s like...a heartbeat. Alive.”

The whispers reached for him, but he jerked his eyes open before he could settle on the feeling too long. The monarch’s smile was softer.

“Fascinating,” she said.

Keith wasn’t sure that was the right word for it. “Do you...ah, feel it,” he paused, “Your Majesty?”

“I know it, but I do not feel it as you do. You are indeed correct. It is a living power that sustains us.” Her smiles shrunk to the beginning of a frown. “Without it, we are powerless. Do you understand why I admit this to you?”

Keith shook his head, honest.

“Because I hope you remember that should the time come.”

Keith furrowed his brows, mouth opening, but she was already standing fluidly.

“I am afraid that will be all for tonight, Your Eminence.” Her attendants glided around her, others cleaning her side of the table. “I have preparations to make accommodations for your people. Marik, please see to their needs until then.”

Keith got up too, tempted to call out to her as she made her way to the door. Lance was close at his side again, a light touch on his wrist telling him to let the dinner end as it was. So Keith gave a polite nod, watching her and her thoughts go.

“It went well,” Marik said. Something in his tone made Keith pause.

“She seemed kind of eager to leave soon,” Lance said, and Keith silently had to agree. “Must be busy being in charge.”

Marik eyed him, then moved forward to take them out of the room. “It is. She’s had to sacrifice plenty to keep us from going under.”

“What kind of sacrifices?” Lance asked.

Marik looked at him like it was a ludicrous question. “Not every decision satisfied everyone.”

“And not every decision is made public,” Lance added before Keith could.

To Keith’s surprise, Marik said, “No. They’re not.”

It came out stiffer than typical. Keith frowned. “What made you tell her about it?”

Marik knew what he meant. At that, Marik had the decency at least to look guilty. “I told her because it’s a sign you were meant to come here, and help us more than you realize.”

“Then take me to it,” Keith said, abruptly. He pretended he didn’t hear the indignant sound that Lance made.

“Take you--”

“To wherever this feeling is coming from. You have to know where it is. You said it’s your job to know things.”

Marik actually looked a little taken aback, his ears twitching, jaw ticking. “Your Eminence, I--”

“What are you hiding from us?” Keith knew he was pressing the matter now, but damn it, something had to be pressed. He couldn’t sit around for the rest of his team anymore. He knew it in his bones he wasn’t going to last.

Marik’s shoulders relaxed. It was enough of a confession for Keith as if it had been verbal.

Just when he thought Marik would say more, the alien stood to his full height and said, “I think you should return to your quarters and rest.”

Lance cleared his throat, and gently took Keith’s arm. He knew in one glance that Pidge was ready to contact them.

With begrudging look at Marik, Keith went back inside his room.

He shut the doors louder than was necessary.

**-x-**

**"Oh, man, is it good to hear your guys' voices!"**

The communications were back on. Hunk was the most vocal about it.

**"Holy quiznack, when we heard you guys were shot down, and then you survived, and like, pulled Tarzan moves to survive a crazy jungle--I mean, Lance has done some crazy things, but--"**

In the end, it just made for a headache. Worse than the one Keith was getting the last time they talked to Pidge. Probably because it wasn't _just_ Pidge they were talking to now. Keith’s mind ran in circles catching up with everyone and having everyone else caught up. From what he understood, Pidge still had to ‘turn them on’ so to speak, but they could all hear and speak to another once they did it. And it brought a small relief to Keith to hear his team.

So why did he feel sick now?

He let Lance do the bulk of the talking, closing his eyes to ward off the worst of the ache. It got worse after Pidge listed off the findings thus far from the system. Ships coming and going. Inventory. A shield of defense that could be erected in times of war. Power levels of everything, even of kitchen stoves. Keith lost track fast.

Hunk, of course, didn’t take the Galra news so well. Keith lost track of who ended up calming Hunk down.

“So, what do you think, Hunk?” Lance asked once Shiro reigned the conversation into something sensible. Keith was more than relieved that their leader had escaped without any further scratches.

**“Hm. Well, the chart things you copied definitely are measuring something over a specific time frame. The pattern is kind of similar to something…”**

Keith rubbed his temple, not pretending he understood any theorems Hunk felt underlined the diagrams Lance had scribbled.

“Does that even matter?” Keith asked, eyes snapping open. “This is pointless. We need to find where the Galra are, like _now_.” He knew he was agitated, made worse by the restlessness building. It felt more intense than before.

And even worse, the harder he strove to feel Red, the farther she felt.

 **“We can’t rush,”** Shiro said. Of course. **“Hunk, you said you could work on tracking down that energy with Pidge, right?”**

**“I think so. If it’s the same principle we applied to the Blue Lion, we can do it. You said it’s somewhere in the temple right?”**

“I think,” Keith said. “Maybe? I guess.”

Lance gave him a look.

“How is Red?” Keith asked, not caring how random it was.

 **“Red?”** Allura’s surprise was evident. **“Your lion is in the castle, accounted for. Why?”**

Keith breathed in deeply. “Nothing. It’s...nothing.” He wanted to change the subject fast. “So, what, we don’t have like...a Galra tracker, right?”

 **“Unfortunately not,”** Allura said. She hadn’t spoken much since hearing the monarch’s reaction to Voltron’s resurrection, and now she sounded reluctant to shift the topic.

 **“Keith?”** Shiro’s voice was all too easy to be heavy with concern. **“What’s going on?”**

“Nothing.”

At that answer, Lance narrowed one eye at him. Keith threw his hands up in the air. “I just,” he added, “I’m...okay. Just things are weird with the energy. And...I can’t feel Red like before. I feel her less and less.”

 **“What?”** Shiro was quiet a moment, while Hunk found that a basis to start freaking out. **“Calm down, Hunk. Lance. What about you?”**

Lance looked sheepish saying, “No, I feel Blue like normal.”

 **“That doesn't bode well,”** Alllura said. She sounded contemplative, which Keith hated because it usually meant there was a lot more going on than he would know. **“Whatever this energy is, I’m sure it’s what we’re after. Though for it to affect Keith the way it is…”**

“Maybe the Galra are doing something. I don’t know.” Keith rubbed his temples again. “Is it really possible they’re here?”

Allura sounded convinced when she replied, **“It’s very possible now that they’ve infiltrated.”**

 **“A spy is very likely,”** Pidge added, **“Especially if there was a bounty. Wouldn’t be that hard to get a spy in there with some time. Or even buy them.”**

“Given the state of things here, doesn’t seem like everyone is very happy.” Lance sighed, running a hand through his hair. Keith wanted to watch him, but felt the shudder of energy again, even amongst all the distraction the conversation should have been having.

 **“The higher ups too,”** Pidge said. **“If one noble had hired thugs and tried to hack the citadel’s system, it’s safe to say they have suspicions about Laranta’s workings too. Though I doubt they would know it was Galra tech.”**

“But this tech is also helping them, isn’t it? You said it had a shield and everything.”

 **“No weaponry though. Like it was enough to give them a little defense, and not much else,** ” Pidge explained. They went on, but Keith started to hear the voices distort into muffled sounds.

Keith pressed his eyes tighter together. When the rush of power overcame him again, he pushed his face into his hands and took a breath. It was like the whispers were trying to tangle with his teammates, contorting their words, calling for him.

 _Stop_ _,_ Keith thought, _Stop talking to me. Stop. Stop. Stop._

He jerked when the feeling rushed to the back of his mind, quiet but still there. He looked up, seeing Lance in front of him, hands holding his shoulders.

He couldn’t hear his teammates. “What happened?” he asked.

Lance stared intently at him, but sighed. “Yeah,” he said, but not to Keith. “He’s...okay. Yeah.” He talked a little more, but out of context it made little sense to Keith. Lance kept glancing over at him as he talked. “Right. Keep us posted, okay?”

Keith touched his temple, blinking. When Lance looked at him again, he raised a brow.

Lance was frowning deeply. It was a disconcerting look to see on him. He still looked exhausted.

“I feel like I blacked out,” Keith said.

“You started talking to someone that wasn’t us. I thought maybe...the thing. I told Pidge to disconnect you.” Lance sat beside him slowly. "But Allura said, whatever happens, don't go back to the temple."

"Why?"

"I don't know exactly. She thinks if you get closer to it, it'll have permanent effects."

"So she does have an idea why this is happening?"

"Well, she didn't say that..."

Keith lowered his gaze. “I don’t know what happened. It was like...too much in my head.”

“Maybe all of us at once was stressing you out…” Lance didn’t sound convinced, and his eyes were a little wide. “Keith?”

“Lance, I’m--”

“If you say you’re okay, I’m going to choke you.” Lance’s hand touched his thigh. “Keith, talk to me. What’s going on?”

Keith focused on the touch. He was unaccustomed to just talking things out, formulating things in his head into words. It was always easier to show, to react, to rely on his senses than what nonsense might fall out of his mouth (and get him booted from the garrison).

“I don’t know. It’s like the longer I’m here, the easier it is for the energy to...reach me. Like, inside of me. I don't think it matters if I'm close to the temple or not.”

“Allura said she didn’t really feel it the way you do,” Lance said, voice lowering. “I think...it’s targeting you specifically. Or maybe you have some weird sense for it.”

“But why just me?”

Lance sighed, clearly not pleased at not being able to have all the answers. Not that he normally did, but he could bullshit his way through things, and Keith was sure this wasn’t one of the times. “I don’t know. Why not you?”

Keith didn’t take the bait for the attempt at humor. He felt his muscles taut, his emotions even tenser. He needed to move. Do something. He peered over at Lance.

Keith noticed the light reflecting from the tank as it shifted soothingly over Lance’s face. Keith glanced over at it, remembering how it was the closest thing to a training deck they’d get. With a final squeeze, he stepped toward it, shrugging out of his clothing.

Lance made a noise.

“Um…”

“Do I have to explain it again?” Keith asked, peeling off the rest of his outfit save for his briefs. It was the only piece he hadn’t let Coran dictate whether or not he could wear it.

When he turned around, he had to admire the shameless way Lance gawked at him. Face streaked red across his cheeks and nose, mouth barely open, eyes trailing down and up, down again. Keith never felt self-conscious, but he felt something at the attention from _Lance._ It made him shift, his heart jump a beat.

Keith thought saying something would shatter the delicacy of whatever it was happening between them. He turned back, maybe a little slowly because Lance had been a little shit enough to earn that. Then, he grabbed the lip of the tank and hoisted himself up and over.

The world drowned out.

It was short lived. The oasis he’d found the first time he’d dunked himself now shrunk to a palm size of water for a parched man. The relief he'd first gotten felt weeks like ago compared to now. Keith swam downward, let his body float, then rotated so he could dive deeper. Only when his lungs felt on the cusp of burning did he kick up and suck up air.

He found Lance ogling him from beyond the tank. Keith pushed hair out of his eyes, studying his silence. Their gaze held, and then,in a series of quick motions, Lance was shucking off his clothing and climbing up.

Keith almost laughed at the sight. “Lance, your bandages--”

“Forget them.” Lance sank in. Instantly, he looked like he belonged, as if he’d grown up nurturing a relationship with water. He kicked under the water toward Keith, coming up for air inches apart from Keith’s chest.

“Hey,” Lance said.

Keith smiled faintly. Looking at Lance, his frustrations felt a little further away.

“Hey,” he said back.

Lance grinned at that. With a knowing sparkle in his eyes, he inhaled deep, and dove back under the water.

Keith went in after him.

Gradually, Keith swam less to clear his mind, and more to chase Lance, brush against his arm, catch his eye, and holding it as they both came up for air. Lance always looked like he could hold it longer, which he proved right when they fell into an old habit of competition. It brought a normalcy that left them both smiling, like they weren’t about to embark on a more dangerous chapter of their mission.

Lance was smoothing his hair, as if thinking he had to maintain upkeep when it was wet. In truth, Keith thought he looked good just as he was, wet hair and all. He drifted closer, not missing the way Lance flinched back and then stop when he caught himself.

“I’m not scared,” he said when Keith caught up to him.

“I didn’t say you were,” Keith said. Only he kind of did in the way he had looked at Lance. He smirked a little. Keith was not all without the fluttering feeling in his own stomach, but he could certainly outmatch Lance in overcoming it.

Lance narrowed his eyes at him. “I’ll kiss you right now.”

“You’d have to catch me first.”

Lance did, because he was the better swimmer. Keith only mentally conceded that point, and partly couldn’t care too much when Lance had his arms around him. Keith’s heart jumped a little higher in his chest.

Lance bit his own lip, drawing a little closer. The kiss soft, and long.

Keith wanted to melt into the points Lance touched him. He drew his arms up around Lance, bumping his forehead against Lance’s wet shoulder. Like this, he could feel the pulse of what might have been Lance’s life force. It couldn’t be anything else.

“Things make sense like this,” Keith said softly. “Something about you calms it all down.”

Lance gulped, like he didn’t know if that was a compliment. "Well, of course. I'm all the medicine the doctor will ever need to prescribe." God, it was tacky, but Keith found himself flushing at the stupid remark anyway.

"Are you sure about that?"

Lance pouted. Then, with little preamble, he pulled Keith closer. His lips grazed Keith’s neck as he said, “Does it scare you?”

Keith’s mind flashed images of Zarkon's destruction, Lance thrashing under a fever, leaping off the balcony, bruising under the assault of a weapon.

“This doesn’t scare me,” Keith said.

When he leaned back, Lance studied him. One of his hands gently nudged aside wet strands of Keith’s hair. It made Keith feel more weightless than he already did in the water.

He kissed Lance, fiercer this time, legs looping around a slim waist.

It would be a blur how they eventually stumbled out of the tank and were not completely dry when they crashed into bed together. Keith didn’t care about that. He would instead remember Lance under him, arching into his kisses and hips. He would never forget them rolling around, until Lance finally landed on top and kissed Keith with a mutual understanding that their lives were fair game after this.

And Keith kissed him back with another understanding that they would fight, and keep fighting.

“Lance.” Keith smoothed his hands over the bandages, past their soppy edges to where Lance’s skin was bare and responsive to his touch. There were traces of water droplets still on him, so Keith ran his fingers along them, streaking shapes along Lance’s stomach.

Lance twitched, and made a breathless sound against his neck. Keith squirmed in response to the puff of air that tickled his neck. Lance must have favored that area, because he lingered, planting deep kisses when he wasn’t shuddering under Keith’s fingertips.

Keith liked when Lance shuddered. He liked sighing Lance’s name, as it was that kind of name easy to roll of the tongue, and perfect for gasping when the attention on his neck moved to his jaw.

Lance was all kinds of noise. In Keith’s arms though, it was the sounds of his arousal, delight, and shyness, instead of incessant talking. It felt like Keith learned more about Lance in the way he gasped and moaned than in all the jabbering he did back in the castle or on missions.

Keith knew talking wasn’t his preferred method of communication. Somehow, it worked out perfectly this way: pulling Lance deeper against his mouth, hugging his waist, chasing tremors down his back with a fingertip.

Every hesitant move, Keith encouraged into something a little bolder, until a moan spilled out of Lance because _finally_ their hips were grinding, and Keith could hike up a leg around Lance’s lower back.

“Keith, I--”

Keith kissed his reluctance away, and a little of his own (not that he himself was _shy_ , it was just-you know). Lance sighed into the kiss, scratching lightly along Keith’s sides.

It was kind of cute. Keith knew long before that Lance was more talk than anything else. It was evident now in the fleeting ways he’d brush his palms along Keith’s thighs. Or in the way he grappled with a place to set it down, like somehow touching Keith like this meant confronting they weren’t just...whatever it was they were before all this.

Keith slipped his hands in between them and found Lance’s face. He tugged it up, wanting Lance to see his expression, see his dilated eyes and the flush that was making his face feel too hot in the right way. He hoped Lance could see that just like this, Keith could endure that power of this place, and its attempt to drag him out of his mind.

When they kissed again, it was the sweetest gesture Keith had ever gotten. Then, when he felt Lance smile against his mouth, he smiled too, then laughed, and soon they were chasing nips along the other’s lips, until Lance submitted to his penchant of showering Keith’s neck with the same kind of kisses.

Keith wriggled under the affection, his breath hitching, mind numb to all else but Lance. The center of universe had rotated around this excuse of a young man, who dropped horrible lines, was far too invested in his personal beauty regime, and had a laugh Keith knew he’d remember forever the first time he had heard it.

He said Lance’s name again. Another shudder. Keith’s hands followed the way it had started up Lance’s shoulders, then settled in his legs. Keith felt muscle born from training at the garrison, and then drilled as part of Team Voltron. Keith squeezed them in admiration before dragging them along the edge of the fabric that was separating them.

Lance went taut. Keith bid his time, nudging Lance’s temple so they could kiss again. Lance swallowed hard, but kissed him back. Then, he shifted into the touch, and Keith slipped the fabric down.

The kiss broke. Lance sucked in a deep breath and the exhale was a delicious mess. He practically hiccuped, eyes wide as he realized what Keith was touching, what Keith was _stroking_.

“Shit, shit, shit…”

Keith found it hypnotic, the way Lance unraveled under his hand. Lance lost the battle of locking gazes, and his face couldn’t be any pinker. His hips bucked, and the sounds that poured into Keith’s neck made Keith shudder too.

Then, after a moment, Lance said in broken attempts, “I...want...you know, I want...to...the same…”

One of his hands was unsure on Keith’s inner thigh. In response, Keith shifted his legs, letting his calves graze Lance’s sides. As if swallowing his heart, Lance gulped and reached down and past the only piece of clothing Keith still had on.

Keith tensed, his other hand clutching Lance’s bicep. Their eyes caught again. Keith was the one swallowing now.

Lance’s hand was laughably shaky, but Keith lost his thoughts on how petrified Lance kind of was when the first strokes began. Slowly, experimentally, Lance swept his thumb, and Keith dropped his head back in a grown.

“Like that?”

“Please don’t talk about it,” Keith forced out in a groan, then gasped when Lance did it again. Yeah. Just like that seemed about right. He returned the touch, and both of them were absolutely wrecked by then.

Lance folded into his embrace, hand pumping, his own hips bucking into Keith’s solid hold. Keith felt Lance angling it so each thrust had him drag against the delicate area of Keith’s inner thigh. It made Keith dizzy.

He arched up into Lance’s hand, and dug a set of nails into Lance’s shoulder.

He sought the responses in Lance’s body, and couldn’t think that this was something sparked from weak kindle. Not the way Lance scooped him around the waist, buried his face in Keith’s shoulder and panted Keith’s name. Not in the way his hand, if a little shaky, he had brushed Keith’s hair aside, or the way he held Keith’s gaze even if it looked like he was terrified.

Keith’s world blurred a little during his orgasm, his cry unable to mute out the rush of his pulse. He clung harder to Lance, feeling him close in the way his hips jerked faster, his bites a little harder on Keith’s neck and shoulder. Then, with Keith’s name muffled, Lance spilled against his thigh.

Their breathing synched. Heavy, satisfied breaths. Lance sank into him with a groan, before having the courtesy to roll partially to the side. He was still red in the face. 

“Sorry,” Lance blurted out. It fell out like a gasp, his breath not yet caught. He was jerking his eyes to Keith’s thigh.

Keith felt grogginess weigh his bones down. He tugged Lance’s hair gently and kissed him. He could kiss Lance all he liked. Somehow he only just realized this now. 

It was an effective way of shutting him up too. Lance turned to puddy in the post-orgasmic kiss, and tucked himself into Keith’s side.

“Wow.”

Keith could agree with that one at least. “Yeah,” he breathed back. He tilted his head to look at Lance more carefully. He brushed his hand over the bandages.

“Later,” Lance said. “Can we,” he licked his lips, and Keith wanted to kiss him again. So he did. “Hey, am I ever going to be allowed to talk?”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

Keith’s lip twitched. He leaned back, fingers still playing with the bandages, rubbing circles along Lance’s back like that might help ease any lingering tension.

“Can we stay like this? Just. A little while.”

So they stayed quiet like that, listening to the other’s heartbeat. Eventually, they dragged their spent limbs up and managed to bathe together without feeling too red in the face about it. Lance proved to be a great massager, and Keith helped wash his back, mindful of the scarred skin. 

Keith knew inside him it was something to savor. He bid his time applying the salve on Lance’s back, letting his hands linger and lips kiss above the scar when Lance let him. When he finished wrapping fresh bandages around Lance, he let his arms stay hooked around from behind.

Lance said nothing about Keith lying back in bed despite the early time of day. Keith’s eyelids were heavy and mind weary, but his heart soared.

“You okay?” Lance asked, because it wasn’t Lance if he didn’t do some talking.

“You ask that a lot. Yeah,” Keith said, feeling like it was the first time in a while he felt that. He sighed, barely picking up the sound of the wind blowing outside their shut balcony windows.

Lance cozied up behind him. Keith was more than fine with that. They could wake up in a little, and confront reality then.

When he slept, the dreams were waiting.

**-x-**

Keith floated again.

The whispers sounded weary, and still somehow longing. For him, he thought. This time, Keith came willingly, listening to the sounds shift into something like awe. The breeze filtered by, but Keith could not make sense of the images it streaked past.

He felt the pulse of life, saw it manifest as a weak, white light. It shivered at the center of the blowing breeze and the fragmented images. Keith stepped forward.

The light pulsed deeper at his willing approach. The images began to piece together, and he thought he heard voices of hundreds of people. He came closer.

He raised a hand, and touched it.

Light burned through his eyes. The world erupted around him, wild and vibrant, islands hovering and flowers swaying. Silhouettes of bodies lined the fields, standing still, faces blurred but watching him all the same.

He blinked, and it all broke.

The lands crumbled.

The flowers wilted, and the song of the winds fell into screams.

Keith fell forward into the light.

**-x-**

Keith jerked awake suddenly, and felt the slap of wind across his face and tangling through his hair. A fierce grip on his arm, he realized as reality came together, was the only thing keeping him from plummeting off the balcony.

He cried out.

“Hey!”

Keith looked up, saw Lance dangling off the balcony and serving as the grip that kept him from falling. Beneath him, Keith heard the guards scrambling at what must have been a ridiculous sight.

“What…?”

Lance glared hard at him, teeth gritting at the concentration of not dropping either of them. “Don’t _what_ me! This is all your fault!”

“What are you talking about?”

“You freaking _jumped_ out the window!” It was shrieked, in part, as a question.

Keith gaped up at Lance. The dream. It rushed at him again, only the fall he had taken at the end had not been condensed solely to the realm of dreams. Keith didn’t want to envision what would have happened to his body had Lance not chased after him.

Keith opened his mouth to say something, but Lance muscles strained and they slipped. They screamed in unison, then grunted at the painful tug when Lance caught hold of the bottom of the railing.

“Your Eminence!”

Marik’s wild hair came into view before his face. Immediately he reached over and hoisted Lance up like he weighed nothing. Keith scrambled up as well, accepting the alien’s guide as he promptly spilled onto the balcony, feeling woozy.

The guards were there as well, relaying the events. Keith barely heard them, only picking out the truth of him toppling off the balcony 

Keith stayed on the ground, all fours, catching his breath and collecting what was surely not much left of his sanity.

Lance grabbed him hard, forced their eyes to meet.

“The _quiznack_ , man!” But Lance saw one look on Keith’s face and knew it hadn’t been intentional. At least, not the way Lance must have seen it to be. That was no less settling. As if understanding the haunted look in Keith’s gaze, Lance lost the color to his face. “Shit.”

Keith swallowed hard, touching his forehead. It was still there. Pulling, calling.

“Your Eminence.” Marik crouched beside him, the guards dispensed.

“I have to go,” Keith said, shoving away his help and struggling to his feet. Lance caught his arm when he stumbled.

“Whoa, whoa, hold up.” Lance squeezed his arm in warning. Keith ignored it.

“I can’t stay here.” Keith shrugged him off and marched back into the room. “I mean...I’m…”

“Your Eminence, clearly--”

Keith turned to address Marik, when the energy swelled through him, stealing his breath for a moment. Outside, the wind howled.

He couldn’t hear Marik or Lance as they rushed at him, both taking an arm and keeping him upright. Keith sucked in air and pinched his eyes shut.

“I can’t,” Keith told Lance, forcing himself to straighten without their help. Lance kept his hand on him, and it was perhaps the only thing that cleared the pressure that had seized Keith’s lungs. “I have to go the temple. I have to know.”

Allura might be right, but Keith knew he would be permanently damage either way at this point. At least he could make it under his own terms.

He tilted his head toward Marik, who stared down at them with a weighted gaze.

Keith stared back, because Marik had to know something. He had to.

“Are you going to help us?” Keith asked. He felt Lance’s hold tighten, but he too was staring Marik down.

When Marik didn’t answer, Keith scowled and shook his head. It wasn’t like he expected a modicum of trust from Marik, when he himself had constructed their relationship on a lie. Still, it aggravated Keith to not understand what went on in those eyes, not when he’d seen the capability for softness in them.

“Try and stop me then,” Keith said. “I don’t know what’s going on here, Marik, but--”

“I’ll take you,” Marik said.

“What the what?” Lance gawked at Marik.

Keith watched Marik’s ears tilt down.

“You said you want to go to the temple. I’ll get you there,” Marik continued.

Lance put himself between Marik and Keith, arms crossed. “You? No offense, but also yes offense, we don’t exactly trust you implicitly.”

Keith was partly surprised that Marik didn’t try to bargain his way out of that statement. Instead, their guide said, “How else do you plan to get there? It is only you two and the guards know your safety is priority. No one will let you stroll out of here on your own.”

Keith almost wanted to drop the truth right there, that they had more than just them two here. He wished Pidge had felt comfortable keeping the communications two-way instead of just one, but at the same time, Keith was glad for it. He was sure the team would try to convince him not to do what he was about to do.

And maybe there was still use to Marik left.

Before Lance could protest, Keith said, “And the monarch?”

“I’ll escort you myself, and the guards won’t question it.”

It wasn’t exactly an answer, but Keith felt the threat of the shuddering power rising again. Wordlessly, he nodded, having Marik wait outside their doors so he could better adjust his robes and tuck his dagger in place again on him.

“You can’t possibly trust him,” Lance was whispering.

“No.”

“This is crazy.”

“I feel a little crazy.”

Lance grabbed his hand. Their back-and-forth dwindled into a silent look into each other’s gaze. Keith let himself be drawn close, and felt the apprehension in the way Lance kissed him, held him close for as brief as the kiss was. Both of their mouths trembled.

Marik proved true to his word.

Guards and workers alike didn’t pass them a look that they hadn’t experience before, and most of those were to recognize Marik’s girth and appraise Keith’s foreign look. Marik still took them along a more private route, avoiding the packed districts were tents had been hiked up for yet another day of celebrating. It seemed that in response to the mercenary attacks, the revelry was even greater than before. Whether it was naturally occurring or instilled by the monarch’s order, Keith couldn’t be sure.

Of the flags Keith could see cresting over rooftops and flapping off towers, blue was the dominant color. Water, probably. Keith didn’t ask Marik to retell the stories of the festivities. The closer they stepped away from the citadel and toward the temple, Keith felt the energy coating over his body, humming inside his mind.

It felt so wrong juxtaposed by the revelry starting up in the markets, and the parties that were in preparation. Keith could hear an instrument or two picking up a rhythm, soon washed out by the thud of his pulse.

Lance checked in on him frequently, and held his forearm when Keith’s steps would fumble.

Marik didn’t question them, and his silence was as eerie as this power, like Marik was walking them to a pyre and not a temple.

 _Calm down,_ Keith thought hard. Though if he meant the power or himself, he couldn’t tell.

At one point, he thought he heard Lance clearing his throat (Pidge, maybe?), but sound was distorting around Keith by the time they ascended to the temple. The wind was fierce up here, its howls matching the beat of Keith’s escalating heart.

More than once he had to stop and hold his chest. Breathe. It took all his will to focus on Lance’s words when he’d ask them if they should keep going.

Keith gritted his teeth and continued onward. There was no other alternative, for something powerful lulled him closer, just like in his dream, only now he felt its presence as sharp as the wind on his face, unseen but there.

Each step weighed Keith’s heart down. He saw the stones. Felt Lance’s arm on his. Pieces of the ascent blurred out of his memory until, like that, they were there.

Keith gazed up at the familiar maw of the temple’s entrance. He stepped in carefully.

And shuddered.

The temple felt different. It was like their first time visiting, the aura of the temple had been dormant, asleep. Now, it was stirred awake, and aware.

Keith’s eyes settled on the largest of the orbs. Within them, the white light convulsed and shivered inside its confinement.

"Is it...you feel it?" Lance asked.

Marik said nothing at first, but Keith felt his attention on him, intensely so.

"It knows I'm here," Keith said. "How?"

"You said it yourself. It is alive," Marik said, voice low. 

Keith slowly approached the orb. He felt sick in his stomach, and he knew it was the wrongness everyone could somehow sense too. The energy was active, and so different than before. Keith felt his nightmares were becoming more real and less trapped to the limitations of his dreaming.

“Wait,” Lance said, a warning this time.

But Keith didn’t listen this time. Whatever it was that lured him closer might have been rooting Lance’s legs down because Keith went forward, reaching out.

He hesitated, then touched the orb.

Light flashed through his eyes. Glimpses of images. Memories. Aliens he never knew, confined. A barren land. A lush one, vibrant and alive. Laughing. Sobs. Then screams. The bright eyes of--

Keith withdrew with a sharp gasp and crumbled to his knees. Lance was there instantly, gripping his shoulders. But Keith was staring wide past Lance’s shoulder, right at Marik.

“You know,” Keith said, without looking away from the orb. "You always knew what this thing was."

It hurt physically to look away from the orb and at Marik. It was the first time Keith saw what must have been something somber in his face. Vividly, so.

“Yes,” Marik admitted.

“This energy keeps your planet...alive?”

“Yes.”

“You know it can talk to...people. To me. It’s...really alive, whatever it is?”

“Yes.”

“What is he talking about?” Lance asked.

“The Galra. I saw them,” Keith said.

Marik’s jaw tightened. “Yes,” and it was almost a whisper. 

Keith’s stomach dropped even more than it already had. He was struggling to breathe, his body, his mind, and soul aching to touch the light again.

"Your Eminence," Marik took a step closer, "I can show you where it-"

"Why, _why_ didn’t you say something?”

“Because he was ordered not to.”

The voice was none of theirs, and all around them in a bold echo. The Galra burst through like the swarm of pestilence they were, weapons at the ready. Keith, fatigue be damned, bolted upright. Lance moved in front of him, but they were surrounded faster than they could even pretend they had a chance.

Trapped.

Keith’s eyes jumped to Marik. Their guide’s eyes were narrowed, but he didn’t look surprised in the way someone should be having never witnessed the Galra up close and personal. Somehow, it sunk Keith’s heart.

A Galra solder made for him. Lance reacted, and got the butt of a weapon in his stomach.

“Lance!”

Keith felt the powerful jerk from two Galra’s now holding him back. He thrashed on instinct, then stopped short when the owner of the voice made himself known. He’d entered in last, the smooth click of his boots like nails grating on Keith’s nerves.

He was lean, and tall, with hair cascading down his shoulders the way a soldier wouldn’t. Not convenient for fighting, though this Galra had a sword tucked on his hip, the hilt intricate as the trims of his uniform. For show, rather than practicality.

Keith took in those bright eyes, and the way the Galra’s lips seemed to be stuck on a permanent smirk. He’d never seen this this Galra, and knew instantly he was more royal than Keith could try to be.

“Impeccable timing, isn't it? And for it,” said the pompous Galra, strolling his way forward with hands clasped behind his back, “quite a gift has fallen for me to their knees.”

When Keith only stared hard, the soldiers holding him forced their weight onto him so he was on his knees. Lance, meanwhile, had a laser gun aimed at him if he tried to rise out of his prostrated position. He clutched his stomach.

“Much better.” The Galra with long hair, and in full charge, raked his eyes over them. “These are the creatures your monarch has been making little deals with?”

Marik lowered his gaze in what might have been his way to show respect. It looked tight with effort the way he did it. “Your Highness...that is--”

Lance raised his head around a cough. “Highness....?”

“Why am I here?” the Galra asked, quirking a brow to Marik. “I can be anywhere I well please, per our agreement. You all just have excellent timing to be where I was going to bring them.”

Marik looked like he didn’t buy that. Neither did Keith. This creep reeked of underhanded doings. Said creep chuckled at Marik’s expression. “I’m taking these two as mine now.”

“What? You cannot--”

Marik overstepped his words. One look from the Galra and he quieted down, ears flat, body stiff.

“I _can_ , and will,” the Galra leader amended. “You’re still a little green around your horns. You think all the critters working in your citadel are loyal to your monarch? Every servant eager to serve? Every guard paid enough to keep their mouth shut?”

Keith slowly understood the implications. If the Galra had implemented their system into the citadel, surely they could just as easily have ears and eyes inside it too.

Marik seemed to pick up on that too. Maybe he suspected as much, but hearing the truth could always make the bitterness of your suspicions that much more pungent.

“The loyalty of her...subjects,” the leader said that term like he might catch something from it, “is only as deep as your pockets run. And Laranta’s pockets are very shallow. At least, without my help, isn’t it? Don’t forget my kindness. Your deals are done. These two things are mine now.”

Marik’s eyes dropped. He didn’t protest this time.

Keith clenched his fists. His attention on Marik paled under the presence of this new foe.

When the leader got closer, bending forward, Keith tensed.

“And what a pretty thing indeed.” He reached for Keith’s chin.

Lance struck out then, out of instinct. It had to be because Keith saw no way Lance had a chance; down he went with a cry, two Galra pinning him with the heels of their boot and weapons ready to fire. Another began to pat Lance down and prod him.

“Stop!” Keith yanked against the paws that held him still.

The leader, amused by Lance for a short while, dragged his attention back to Keith. This time, he grabbed Keith’s jaw, hard. “Such loyalty. Only,” he leaned in close, inhaling Keith’s scent. If Keith could bite his hand off, he would have then. “You don’t smell like those water simpleton.”

“Your Highness.” It was the soldier that had performed the inspection. He held the earpiece in his armored hand.

Keith grunted as he was let go. The leader  plucked the device, and to Marik he said,  “I think you’ve been deceived.” He crushed it in his grip. "Not so innocent, are they?"

“No!” Keith tried to kick back, and was rewarded with a blow to the back of his head that blacked out his vision. The power of the temple surged inside him, with nowhere to channel through. Keith swam in the dizzying sensation as much as he rocked with the aftermath of being hit on his head.

Gloved fingertips smoothed past Keith’s cheek. Flinching, Keith angled away, but the soldiers held his head as the fingers reached his ear. He felt his own earpiece removed, and blinked back reality to focus.

Keith glared at the looming Galra.

“I think I’ve got myself a couple of spies.” The second earpiece was shattered between fingertips. "Even more interesting."

“Who are you?” Keith tested again the hold on his arms. They didn’t break. “What do you want?”

“I am the Prince of the universe.” The Galra said it like it was genuine, as if he’d been born for that title. “So stay kneeling. As for what I want...I think I’ve gotten it.”

Keith wanted to look at Lance, to see if he too thought this couldn’t be the prince Marik had spoken about. Keith didn’t dare take his eyes off this Galra.

“Last I checked, the Galra were losing hold, not winning more,” Keith said. Couldn’t help it, and knew instantly he’d struck true at the fierce way this prince’s eyes burned.

“You mistake my conquest for my father’s.”

“Father?”

The prince sneered at the term. Straightening, he stared down at him. “I will prevail tenfold where my father has.”

Keith’s eyes went wide.

“Zarkon” Lance said in a gasp, “No way. Your _father--_ ”

“I am Prince Lotor.” The prince’s eyes ticked to Lance, where the soldiers applied more pressure to keep him quiet. “And you will revere me as such.”

Keith’s blood boiled. An extension of Zarkon stood before them, soiling this planet, doing who-knew-what to it and the relic Team Voltron desperately sought for. Hurting Lance.

“Oh. What’s with this look? Angry, are you?” Prince Lotor came closer again, crouching. “Feel honored. You are just what I have been looking for.”

Keith didn’t understand. The words riled Lance up again, despite the threat of more pain falling on him. Lotor turned to him, looking amused at how hard Lance tried to struggle.

“I’ll find out what you know, and then you may serve me. See? I’m not barbaric enough to send you to the games.”

“Slavery under one monster or in a fighting ring is still slavery.” Lance didn’t know when to shut up. "Your kind enslave entire civilizations."

“That’s very disappointing to hear.” Lotor’s amusement had fallen out of his voice. He glanced at Keith, as if deciding something. With a tilt of his hand, the soldiers lifted Lance, and aimed one of the guns straight at his temple.

“Don’t!’ Keith felt the rage fueling into an inferno.

“You’ll tell me what I want to know,” Lotor said, and made a different gesture with his hand. The gun whipped Lance across the face, but still the soldiers held him up.

“Stop it!”

“And you’ll tell me in detail everything I want to know,” Lotor said, gazing at Keith as he prepared to make the gesture again.

Keith’s breath hitched. He looked at Lance quickly, who, despite the beaten he’d already endured, screamed with his eyes not to agree to anything this jerk said.

Lotor made the same sweep of his hand again. Lance bent forward, rasping. “And then you’ll submit willingly to me."

Keith’s body shook with his wrath. He felt like he was being filled with the temple’s energy, and it was going to burst from within, and only take him out instead of this monstrous prince.

Again, Lotor’s hand prepared to repeat the motion. “You _will_ submit.” It was asked as if there was no forcing Keith’s decision.

Keith wanted to break every limb in him.

The hand twitched.

“Yes!” Keith thrust forward as much as he could. The power drained from him on an exhale, and suddenly he felt exhausted, held up by the soldiers more than his own vigor. “Yes,” he repeated, quieter.

Lance stared helplessly at him. “No! He doesn’t-” He broke out into a cry, and this time the blow was to knock consciousness out of him. Keith cried out too, but the soldiers were already lifting Lance, taking him the opposite direction that Keith was being hauled.

Lotor smiled his way, a long, snake’s smile. “Keep him under close watch. I want to know the exact effects upon him once he’s brought inside.”

Inside, Keith learned soon, meant deeper within the temple. A passage rumbled open during his thrashing, then he was coerced in by a throng of Galra. The darkness of the passage swallowed him. Instantly, he knew what Lotor meant by effects: he felt the source of the aura, the power, the energy, the pull of what supposedly should have kept the Galra at bay, and instead lured them here.

It was inside the temple, deep within. Keith knew that as well as _it_ knew _he_ was here. That he was coming closer.

The Galra forced him forward. Keith never stopped fighting, never stopped cursing and swearing he'd break every one of them, and find Lance. The living energy hammered in time with his heartbeat, agreeing with his every word.

Lance's name became an echo that followed him all the way down.

**-X-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! End of the year is extra busy at work for me, but we're nearing the ending chapters finally! Again, I really don't want to make things too complicated, though I know it leaves off that way. I still want to emphasis on Keith/Lance with adventure than a crazy, twisting plot. So I'm trying not to over-explain things.
> 
> But I'm pretty sure some of you already knew/suspected Prince Lotor from the old Voltron show. I kind of love him, though it's my take of him given the old show wasn't exactly very in-depth character wise.
> 
> I really hope to hear back if you have the time! Thank you again and happy + safe new year!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you, thank you again for such support on this fic!

Lance missed the color of Keith’s eyes.

It was a ridiculous sentiment to have when you were fresh from a beating, wrists bound behind your back and dumped in a cell. Then again, Lance and ‘ridiculous’ had a frequent run-in with one another, and well, this was about as ridiculous as things got. Royally screwed would be another, adequate term for his current situation.

‘Shitty’ worked too.

Lance couldn’t tell how much time had passed since he was knocked out cold (hopefully he didn’t look as bad as he felt?). Upon his eyes fluttering, he had found he was already in a bare cell. No bed, no amenities, no Keith.

The panic that had seized him once he woke up didn’t leave, but practicality kept him calm enough to pay attention. Freaking out wasn’t going to get him out of here. You know, after all, freaking out was _Hunk’s_ thing, really.

Thinking of Hunk spiraled Lance’s worry out of control, prompting another short-lived freakout: did the others know they were caught? Were they also in danger? Was Keith held up in a cell nearby?

When he got hold of himself again, Lance had figured he was on a Galra ship, though he was unsure if it was in transport or not. A guard was stationed outside his cell, and he heard the click of others on patrol. Lance tried just about everything in his repertoire to get answers from the guard. To be fair, he never had a lot at his disposal when dealing with the Galra.

Sometimes, the guard told him to shut up. Other times, he threatened bodily harm. Lance would get quiet after those threats, then start up again to repeat the cycle.

But yeah, in the end, he didn’t get far, understandably, and each second that stretched into minutes fed the gnawing feeling that Keith was in serious trouble. Lance had to get out. Even if Pidge could track their locations, he couldn’t count on help.

He revisited their capture countless times, thinking what could have been done differently. He felt spite at Marik, who had known all along. He felt it worse for himself for being so helpless. The magnitude of their defeat back at the temple was only made greater by the fact it was the Galra that had nabbed them.

Zarkon’s son.

Lance still didn’t know what the hell to make of it. So many questions, too many bruises, and at least one broken rib at this point all made for a bad dream. But each time Lance blinked, he was still here, and Keith was not at his side.

 _Some escort I turned out to be_ …

Yet, before the misery could weigh him down, feel him pinned and trapped more than he could in his cell, Lance also revisited the better memories. Keith’s honest gaze, the way he touched Lance’s back, kissed him (and wow, they really did that plenty). He thought of his team counting on them, of the innocent people of the planet. He thought of Rodi again and the village.

Lance lifted his gaze toward the guard again, who still had his back to Lance.

“I’m hungry,” Lance said. It was the third time in a short while he’s said it. His previous shouting at the Galra hadn’t left him feeling any better, and he was still plenty angry. “Come on, at least give me something to eat.”

“Shut up.”

“There’s that Galra hospitality.” Lance watched the guard cast a glare over his shoulder. “If you don’t want me to die, I should be given something to eat. You know. Food? You guys eat, don’t you?”

“I told you to shut up.”

Lance tensed when the guard faced him from outside the cells. He wouldn’t put it past him to stroll in and whack Lance over the head with his weapon. In fact, Lance was counting on it.

“It’s true though, isn’t it? Or else I’d be dead already.” Not necessarily true, but Lance had a habit of gambling at the worst times (leading to many a wrecked flight simulators) “Your prince doesn’t want that.” At least, not yet. Lance tried not to think much on that ‘yet’ part.

“You will not address His Highness so casually.”

Lance hummed, pretending it didn’t worsen his headache. He coughed. “Who, Prince _Loser_?”

“Insolent lout. We’ll see how chatty you are when--”

The guard stopped upon hearing Lance’s coughing escalate into a barrage of hacking. He barked orders at him, but Lance kept it up, feigning distress until, finally, he flopped onto his side.

For a moment, the guard didn’t do anything.

Then, Lance heard the guard curse. He called for backup before the cell door hissed open.

Lance braced himself. Breath steady. He remembered being on his side like this, knowing a foe was skulking toward him. Only Keith had been attached to him, and they had screwed up that training exercise. Thinking back, Lance wondered how well they could have nailed it had they not been bickering (though, seriously, Keith started it).

Reminding himself this wasn’t a training exercise, Lance stayed still as he could, which was pretty easy given how exhausted he was. Footsteps came closer, and more were clicking down the hallways from afar.

The guard toed him in the chest.

Lance snapped his eyes open and lunged.

The guard instantly lost his balance when Lance barreled into his legs. Lance zeroed in on his weapon and knocked it out of the Galra’s grip just before he swept the same leg into the guard’s head, knocking him out.

“Okay. One problem down.”

That was, until two more Galra came rushing into his view. Lance stormed out of his cell before he could be trapped again, and smiled sheepishly at the baffled Galra.

“Um, which way to the exit?”

Lance cried out, dodging shots aimed for his legs. The instinct to flee and hide was high. It took what little was left in him to steel himself and focus. His hands were still bound by cuffs behind his back, but his legs were free, and Allura had more than once bound their limbs during training.

At the time, what seemed like a sadistic practice in humiliating them gave Lance just enough edge to not get filled with holes anywhere. He zigzagged to the closest Galra, ducking and then propelling off his legs. The momentum thrust the first Galra into the other, sending them all sprawling.

Heart thundering, Lance worried more would come at the sounds of a scuffle. He barely made it back to his feet before one Galra seized his leg and yanked him back down.

“Get. Off!” Lance slashed his free leg down, heel down, into the Galra’s wrist.

It howled, letting him go. Too bad Galra were persistent monsters and suddenly the Galra was leaping at him. Lance rolled, grateful for his lean form in a cramped hallway right about now. He felt claws grabbing his shoulders. Lance smashed his head back until he heard a satisfying crunch. He heard more footsteps.

He whirled, ready to use his head in another more literal sense.

Lance gasped, seeing who had come into the hall.

“Shiro?” Lance blinked at their leader.

Shiro blinked back. “Lance.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Uh.” Shiro’s eyes narrowed as he took in Lance’s state. Eh, not the best reaction, but Lance was far from dead. “Rescuing you, but it looks like you took care of that.” Shiro broke into a smile, and it was just the thing Lance needed.

He smiled back. “Thanks.” He offered his cuffed arms, and Shiro understood.

The cuffs off, Lance rubbed his wrists and felt the strain in his arms. Well, just one more pain to bitch about.

“Can you manage?” Shiro asked him.

Lance tried to straighten. “Always.”

“Then here.” Shiro tossed him something.

Catching it, Lance practically purred as he cradled his bayard. “Oh, how I missed you, baby.”

“We need to go.”

“The others?”

“Allura and Hunk are at the temple. Pidge will go on ahead once I give the signal I got you safely. We’ll meet up with them.”

Lance paled. “That place has to be crawling with Galra now. They...They took...took Keith--”

Shiro touched his shoulder. “Yeah, I know. We...caught up a little. You can fill in the rest.”

Slowly, Lance nodded. Shiro’s smile gave him a little more courage.

“Let’s get you out of here then.”

**-x-**

Keith didn’t let himself sleep.

His head hung heavy, his mind as weary as his body. Dragged deep into the pits of the temple, he’d been strapped into a room that was not a cell, his knife found and confiscated. His vision had faded on and off during the descent, and he hardly remembered what kind of fight he put up when he’d been forced onto the slab that kept him secured upright.

He wouldn’t sleep. He didn’t want to know what nightmares would consume him so close to the energy.

He focused on the burn of his knuckles. He hoped whatever Galra had gotten their punch was hurting. Now though, his arms were forced above his head, his entire body strapped to what might as well have been an upright medical table.

When he had been able to lift his head, consciousness quivering, it reminded him of a room when he’d saved Shiro. He tried not to think the implications of what that meant for him.

But greatest of all, was the pulse of the planet’s energy. It had weakened considerable, leaving him groggy and tired. Though it felt like it was not from choice, as if it was still trying to reach into his mind, into his heart.

“Ah, looking a little more lucid now, are you?”

Keith’s rage spiked at the voice. It alone made him able to lift his head and glare at Lotor strolling in. Two Galra flanked the opening, and one more was off to the right by some kind of computer system with panels.

Lotor seemed only amused by his anger. He chuckled. “Seems so. I was worried you were already dying before we begun.”

“Where is he?”

“Your friend? Not here, so don’t waste the energy trying to break out of your restraints.”

Keith tried anyway.

“Remember, he’s at my disposal,” Lotor said. “My soldiers are far more loyal than my father’s, so one word is all it takes for me to let them do what they want to his pretty face. Or any part of him.”

Keith fisted his hands until he felt his nails break skin.

“Good boy.”

Keith licked his lips, gaze daring to dart around. “What is this?”

“Now you ask the more important questions.” Lotor half-smiled, and began circling Keith like the vulture he was. “It’s vital you understand your purpose here. I believe it will benefit us both.”

Keith scoffed.

“It’s true,” Lotor said, stopping in front of him. “You’re going to help me take Laranta’s crystal.”

Keith stared at him. Everything in him sank low. 

“Crystal?"

"Yes, the thing that powers Laranta. Did you think it was something nonsensical like magic that makes the buildings and land float?"

"So it’s true,” Keith whispered. “You knew all along this...thing was here. And you’re after it.”

“Good. I like you when you’re lucid.”

“What happens to Laranta...to its galaxy if you take it? If this is their power--”

“It’s for the greater good.” Lotor looked bored now. “They are already under my campaign in lieu of falling to my father’s. They already benefit with my aid.. Then, with this power, I ensure they stay under my protection.”

Keith seethed. “If they wanted your protection so much, they would have given it to you.”

“I don’t expect you to understand the complexities of politics.”

“This isn’t politics. This is tyranny. You, Zarkon, all you’ve done is poisoned the universe with--” Keith bit down on his tongue as he was struck. He refused to cry out to the likes of this Galra.

“Don’t compare me to my father.” Lotor stepped away from him, signaling to the Galra by the panels. “You don’t want me temperamental when experimenting on you.”

Keith saw the Galra tap away.

It was all the warning he got before he felt the surge of the power again, too much too fast, crushing the air around him.

**-x-**

Lance and Shiro navigated their way back to the temple in better time than Lance expected after Pidge went on ahead of them. And 'better time' was not much, not when every breath felt like the stakes were piling higher and higher. Lance was hurting everywhere, but he tried to pay attention. The ship he’d been hauled off to had been docked not far from the temple, by some of the warehouses where the attacks from nights before struck. Made for a good place given it had been abandoned since the fires devoured the goods inside.

Still, it had been eerie, lurking behind crates of ruined cargo, their steps quiet. In the far distance, Lance could hear music playing from where the festivals were still going.

Whatever diversion Allura had struck up, did the job. Lance’s mind was a little fried, but he picked up the important parts. The whole team landing, save for Coran. Hunk with a new device he made to zero in on the planet’s energy. Allura diverting the attention of what Galra were stationed at the temple. They had a chance yet.

“The Galra don’t want to be seen?” Lance had asked as they made their ascent back into the temple.

“We think so. That makes us think the people don’t know that they are here.” Shiro peered back at him. “And explains why there’s suspicions among nobles from the other planets. It’s all kinds of suspicious around here. Imagine if they found out it was because Laranta had some...connection with the Galra.”

“A deal, I think,” Lance said. He forced himself to climb higher, and was fine letting Shiro take the lead in scoping out the temple. What Galra had been stationed there were taken care of. Lance was grateful Allura and Hunk had spared him a fight.

Lance counted his luck that the ship he’d been dumped in had not yet taken off. To the moon, of all places. He remembered back to the troopers and the stations they had not been privy to learn more about. It made for a good enough hiding spot for the Galra if they didn’t want their presence known on the planet.

“Lance.”

Allura’s voice instilled a little more courage in Lance. He smiled wide, a little flirtatious as he always did in her presence. Especially now as she looked him over. She was shorter than normal, her skin pink-ish as she held onto her disguise.

“You made excellent timing,” Allura said.

“Lance did most of the work,” Shiro said, giving Lance’s shoulder a squeeze.

“I’m here to the rescue,” Lance announced. He tried not to take it personally when everyone looked at him like it should be the other way around.

Still, Lance never felt so happy to see them.

Hunk embraced him, gentle as he could because one look at Lance and everyone knew he was sporting more than a slight limp. It didn’t stop his grin, though it pulled painfully on every muscle in his face.

“You look awful,” Pidge said. Lance hadn't gotten to see them take off when he and Shiro disembarked the Galra ship. He couldn't say he'd been any happier to see Pidge, even if they were staring at him like he had walked out of some horror movie. At least Lance's hair wasn't too messed up.

“Thank you, Pidge. I missed you too.”

Allura’s appraisal made Lance almost blush. She nodded at him as she said, “We have little time before you’re found to be missing, and they come to the temple.”

“What if a civilian comes up here?”

“They won’t,” Hunk said. “There are Laranta guards stationed beyond the end of the festival. My guess is they were put there for a reason, that being to let the Galra do as they please here. You know...”

The words fell hard. Lance swallowed.

Hunk quickly straightened and showed off something on Pidge’s holograph. “But hey, I made this tracker that Pidge implemented, and it should pinpoint us to the exact location of the energy source. And once we’re inside, Pidge can get us access to this place’s layout.”

Lance felt hope flicker a little stronger. “Yeah? You’ll be able to see what’s inside there? Like, where they’re keeping Keith?”

Pidge blinked up at him, and Lance only realized he had gotten too close in his eagerness. “Um, well, I had to hack into a different system and then I’ll have to link up to the one inside the temple but...yeah. That’s the plan.”

“As for getting in,” Hunk trailed off, “just give me a tick. Once I find the spot, we can use Shiro’s arm to open it I’m sure.”

Lance resisted the urge to hover and rush him. Instead, he focused on Allura. Normally an easy feat, but this time he felt a weight in his chest as he studied her.

“...Can you feel it too?” he asked.

“Yes.” She didn’t look directly at him now.

“Why didn’t you want Keith to come back here? Do you...know something?” He knew it was risky to ask, knew the others were listening just as much.

Allura stole a glance at the entrance. Lance couldn’t blame her, and did the same. No sign of more Galra. “I think this power wants Keith.”

“Wants?” Pidge frowned, head cocked. “Like, it’s really alive and has wants and thoughts?”

“Not maybe the same way you and I do,” Allura said, sighing. “Look, this energy...it’s...so much like how I feel your lions.”

Lance tossed that statement around in his tired head. Luckily, it was Shiro who caught on first.

“Are you saying this thing is related to the power of the lions?” Shiro asked.

“I’m saying that the feeling is similar only...this one is different now. Damaged, perhaps is the way to put it.”

Shiro was quiet a moment. “And it...what, chose Keith?”

“Like how our lions chose us,” Pidge finished.

Allura remained silent, head turned away. Lance felt something sickening in his stomach, but before the questions flew out of him, Hunk’s device beeped. It almost shot Lance’s heart out of his chest.

It was time to get Keith back.

**-x-**

Keith felt agony all around him.

It was an addiction that had yawned open inside of him, begging to be fulfilled. Only worse, because Keith didn’t know what it was he wanted exactly, or if it was his desperation or the energy of this place.

With each tide of the energy, he was stripped of his senses, lost to a sensation of suffocation that never quite killed him. He felt like he was losing his mind.

“Enough.” Lotor’s voice rang clear in the wake of the last attempt.

Keith hung limp as the feeling receded. He lost count if this was the third or fourth time Lotor returned to the room to study his reaction. Each time, he lifted his head, found his rage, and glared. Each time, Lotor looked faintly disappointed. 

“You’ve got vigor.” Lotor’s boots clicked too loudly as he approached. “I’ll award you that much.”

Keith trembled when he tried to pull at his restraints. 

“I expected your mind to wither, to turn you into an efficient vessel. Perhaps I miscalculated how to make you the host I've been striving for.”

Keith inhaled shakily, forcing his words out. They came through gasps. “I’m...not...a host…”

“Your strength is weak,” Lotor said, standing before him. He flicked two fingers, and all other Galra left them alone in the room. “Yet you still hold on.”

Keith watched Lotor, eyes burning. If Lotor was trying to turn his mind to mush, Keith wasn’t going to give him any inkling that it was working. He fought back the fatigue and put all his rage in his staring.

“I know you are a little spy now. Where are you from?”

Keith stayed silent. It wasn’t the first time Lotor bombarded him with these questions, each one like a poker in Keith’s temple after being subjected to the flux of the power from...whatever it was that was in here.

“You forget I have your friend at my disposal?” Lotor asked.

Keith knew that. He also knew he couldn’t tell them who they really were. It would only jeopardize Lance more than he was.

Again, Keith stayed silent. Time was stretching on, as was the means to escape. Keith didn’t know if it was his own heartbeat anymore pulsing in his head, or that of the energy. It was trying to reach him, desperately. He wanted to reach back now.

When Lotor spoke again, it wasn’t what Keith expected.

“Allura lives?”

Too surprised by the question, Keith’s glare dropped. “What…?”

Lotor stepped closer, a ferocity in his gaze that Keith had not yet seen. “Voltron has returned. Allura lives. These are all things you spoke of at dinner.”

Keith bit on his tongue. He knew now Lotor has hired spies at some point, but it didn’t make Keith feel any less better knowing everything he had said was evidence piling up in Lotor’s hands.

He startled when Lotor slammed a fist beside his head. Keith’s eyes widened.

“If you lied about her,” Lotor said, carefully, and then stopped saying more. He seemed to come back to himself. “Tell me if you saw her with your own eyes.”

“Why do you care?”

Lotor’s gaze brightened, face coming a centimeter closer. Keith couldn’t quite bump heads with him. “She matters to me.”

Lotor had said the words with sincerity that Keith’s stomach tightened. Not only was the implication that this creep had fondness for Allura disturbing, but Lotor had survived thousands upon thousands of years like his father.

“Voltron will put an end to you, and you’ll never see her again,” Keith said.

Lotor visibly seethed. Then, as if it didn’t take him great effort, he breathed calmly. “Still so resistant. I appreciate that about you.” He inched his face closer.

“If you survive this,” Lotor said, softly, “you’ll have the blessing of joining my harem.”

Keith tilted his head back. Mistaking the gesture as a flinch, Lotor chased him, reaching out to grab his chin. Just as he did, Keith smashed his forehead forward. The wail that flew out of Lotor made the pounding in Keith’s head worth it. He barely felt it when Lotor struck him in the face.

“Wretched fool.” He snagged a fistful of Keith’s hair, yanking. Keith didn’t care, because it gave him a good view of the blood dribbling from the prince’s nose. “Be grateful you’re useful or I would throw you to my troops to do as they will with you.”

“Can’t do your own dirty work?” It came out as a furious hiss, his hair pulled harder.

“I’ve conquered more worlds in months than my father has in years. Rethink who your fear should be aimed at.”

Keith felt blood in his mouth. He spat it into Lotor’s face.

He wasn’t struck for it. Lotor stepped away from him, too calmly wiping the blood off with a cloth. When he looked back at Keith, any amusement was dead in his gaze. “ I’ll enlighten you,” Lotor said, face falling impassive. “I’ll show you what it means to drop out of my favor.”

The Galra were gestured back in. One went to the control panels. Lotor made a signal.

Keith braced himself for the pain.

**-x-**

Lance heard Keith’s screams first.

If it hadn’t been for Shiro and Hunk’s simultaneous grab on his shoulders, he might have barreled through the temple, fueled by his panic alone. He tensed under their hold and looked to Shiro, expectant.

"We have to hurry." Lance hated how desperate he sounded.

“We have to be smart about this.” Shiro made sure each of them met his gaze. It lingered longer on Lance. “We aren’t leaving without him.”

“What are they doing to him?” Pidge sounded downright vicious.

“Definitely not good, whatever it is.” Hunk sounded as scared as he looked, but his hold on Lance was firm. Maybe it was for his own sake too.

Allura tilted her head, eyes shutting.

Lance watched her for a hearbeat. “Can you feel it more inside the temple?”

“Yes.” She hunched forward toward Pidge, who manifested a holographic map. Lance steeled himself for the reality of their predicament.

The temple was Galra infested.

“That’s a lot of Galra,” Hunk said. His focus was on the red dots that the thermal sensors had picked up on.

Lance fidgeted as a means to channel the chaos going on in him. Not good, given how weary his body already was.

“According to Hunk’s device, the source of the energy is coming from here,” Pidge said, pointing. They peered at Allura, who nodded in agreement. “The patterns kind of weird.”

“What do you mean?” asked Shiro.

“It’s pulsing. Sometimes it gets stronger, and then...kind of peters out.”

“Someone is channeling it,” Allura said. There was an edge to her voice that didn’t do good things for Lance’s mounting worry. “There must be something that allows someone to release its power, or close it off.”

“Like a switch?” Hunk suggested.

"Something like that."

Lance frowned. “Wait, is that what those graphs were measuring?”

Hunk shook his head. “I think it’s more than that.”

It didn’t matter at this point Lance figured. He focused on Pidge’s map, looking at all the dots.

“One of them is Keith.” Lance straightened. “How the heck are we going to take them all out?”

“We can’t,” Shiro said. “If we try, they’ll alert the others. They clearly have this place under high alert if only Galra have access into it.”

Lance was fine with stealth. He wasn’t fine with it when it required more time, which they all knew they had too little of. No one knew what was going on in there.

“I could provide assistance.”

They all reacted in unison, poised to take down the threat even before Lance’s brain had processed whose voice it was. Allura’s rigorous training was really paying off, not that any of them could appreciate it in that moment.

Lance’s shouldered went slack, weapon lowering. “Marik?”

Their guide stood behind them, ears perked up. He looked alert, and not all that surprised at seeing Lance here. Remembering their last encounter forced Lance to raise his weapon again.

“Don’t come closer. How did you get in here?”

“I have always delegated between the prince and our monarch,” Marik said. keeping his massive paws clasped in front of him. “They can’t be seen together so easily. It’s how I am allowed access within the temple when others are not.”

Lance knew there were more layers to that, none of which were his business. Nor did he have the capacity to extend additional thinking on the thought. He did think back though to Marik’s expression when Lotor swarmed them.

Marik's back straightened, but there was weariness in his eyes this time. “Please. I know an apology will mean nothing, but I still give it. I did not...want Prince Lotor to take you. It wasn't supposed to happen like this.”

“Funny, you didn’t seem too surprised to see him.”

“He’s not particularly...intelligent. I thought I had time.” Marik glanced at the others. “I went against the monarch’s wishes bringing you both here.”

“Why did you?” Lance demanded.

“Because I thought if he could learn the truth before the prince took interest in him…”

Lance angrily brought his bayard down again. “Why didn’t _you_ tell the truth?”

“You heard why. I was forbidden, and knew the prince had ears everywhere. When I told the monarch in strict privacy about His Eminence feel of our power,” he trailed off, and instead said, “she had to have known there were spies when she said those things during dinner.”

Lance bit his tongue. It sounded like the monarch was fine to give up Keith to Lotor should the damn prince want him. As for why, Lance really didn’t give much a shit for right now. He could care more after he got Keith out of here.

Lance inhaled deeply. “Do you know where he would be?”

“Yes. I can help you get him out,” Marik said, quickly. “But not alone. The Galra will find us before we could escape.”

“Feeling a little regret?” Lance asked. He knew he sounded petulant. He had a rough few days. He could sound petulant if he wanted.

Marik noted him, his keen eyes falling to Lance’s weapon. Then, they went to the others. “These are the ones you were communicating with.”

“Yes,” Lance said. He ignored Pidge’s groan. “They’re my teammates. My friends.”

“Who are you?” Marik asked. It was such an easy question, and Lance knew by the tone he no longer believed they were playing ambassadors.

“We’re here to stop the Galra,” Shiro said, “and bring peace back to the universe. We used two of our members to do it discreetly. Tried to, at the start, anyway. We couldn't risk an open approach.”

“Peace.” Marik said it like he’d never heard such a concept.

“Yes,” Allura said. She stepped to the front, her glamour fading as she revealed herself. Though Marik couldn’t have known who she was, he must have recognized her Altean features even after their supposed extinction. It was the first time Lance really saw an expression light up the alien’s face.

As if reliving Keith’s story at dinner, Marik said, “...Princess?”

Allura nodded once.

Lance couldn’t pretend he knew what went on in Marik’s mind. He couldn’t let himself care too much when Keith’s scream was fresh in his conscious. But Marik didn’t waste more of their time. His ears twitched. He opened his mouth, as if to ask the obvious question about who they really were. He stopped himself it seemed, and instead said, "We don't have much time."

Lance had countless questions, and no time for them all. Still, he was desperate for anything to get Keith out of here.

So he asked, “How can we trust you?”

“You can’t. But you can know I’m at risk here too, and am putting my entire country, my planet at risk.” Marik tightened his hands in front of him. “The Galra will find out I’m about to go against Lotor’s words and will come for me.”

Allura stepped forward. “And in return, what are you seeking?”

Marik didn’t miss a beat. "I ask you purge our galaxy of all the wrongs it’s done.”

Lance had no idea what that even meant. Before he could really lose it at how much time was being wasted, Shiro said, “The power of your planet. Can we use it to stop the Galra?”

Marik didn’t blink. “I believe so.”

“You’ll take us to it after we find Keith?”

“Keith?” Marik realized the connection. “His Eminence...that is his name?”

“Are you going to help us or not?” Lance asked, hard.

Marik did.

**-x-**

When the door opened to the room for the nth time, Keith didn’t lift his head.

He raged from inside, so fervently he didn’t know how his physical body wasn’t burning from it. But he understood better now, how Lotor didn’t want to break his body. Whether it was because he knew Keith’s type didn’t break that way, or something else, Keith barely had any new additions to the physical pain.

His mind, however, was unwinding.

He didn’t know how long he’d been dangling there, or how long he resisted screaming out curses and threats. Even now, he had no inkling of time. Lotor was somehow forcing the power around his subconscious, trying to squeeze it to the brink of death.

Keith was starting to think, with enough time, he could succeed.

Yet even now, with the energy receded, he felt it. It reached to him like a timid touch, as if it could try to comfort him. Keith mentally reached for it too, and felt his strength still there. He clung to old memories, and the newer ones, desperately. He wouldn’t let Lotor wipe him clean from the inside out.

“I’ll kill you,” he rasped out, still not lifting his head.

“You sure know how to charm a guy.”

Keith’s eyes bulged at the voice. It hurt to raise his head, but he forgot about his discomfort for a breath. Lance.

“Lance,” he whispered, tried to. His voice dried up at the terrible joke his mind was playing on him now. But that stupid grin was not a mistake, the edges strained, the look in Lance’s eyes so relieved and exhausted.

“I came to rescue you,” Lance said.

“That’s my job,” Keith said, finding his voice. He realized they weren’t alone and made the painful choice of looking away from Lance. Marik was fiddling at the panel to the side. The door was still open, and two Galra guards had crumpled to the ground. Allura stood watch.

He couldn’t make out her expression. He could think on it later. Right now, Lance was touching him, grounding him.

“Are you okay?” Lance asked softly.

Keith met his eyes, and knew the answer the moment he touched Lance’s face. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

Lance leaned into the touch.

Keith swallowed hard. “How. Wha-”

“The monarch’s family had the right mind to protect their people,” Marik said, without looking up from his work. “When Prince Lotor came in secret, they felt no other choice but to abide by his terms, lest be overtaken by Zarkon, who had claimed all other galaxies around ours.”

Keith struggled to keep up. “Her family? She knew…you knew.”

“We did, but that doesn’t mean we agreed.” Marik moved onto a different panel with quicker fingers than seemed possible for his paws. “I knew the instant you told me you could feel our planet’s core that he’d want you.”

Keith gasped as Marik pressed something that released his right arm. Survival screamed through his blood and he yanked at the straps of his left arm. Lance stilled his manic clawing and helped carry his weight as Marik had the rest of his constraints free him.

It was tempting to collapse into Lance and let his eyes drift shut. Instead, he yanked Lance into a fierce embrace, which was quickly returned.

Lance’s voice against his ear was the best thing Keith heard in ages. “Let’s get you out of this room.”

Keith didn’t ask him if he was okay. He knew the answer in Lance’s walk, in the circles looped under his eyes, and the still fresh abuse from Lotor’s men.

“What about him?” Keith asked, glaring over at Marik.

“He assisted,” Allura said, curtly in a way that told Keith she wouldn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. Giving Marik’s girth, that wouldn’t be far.

Keith limped alongside Lance. “The others?”

A commotion echoed from a distance. Keith got his answer there before Marik had to elaborate.

“The distraction we need. It won’t buy much time,” Marik said. “Follow me. I’ll take you to the core, and then get you out of here.”

With little choice, Keith trusted in Lance and Allura’s judgment. Whatever information had been passed between them, he could learn about it later. If he made it out with enough sanity in him.

One thing he had to ask: "The core?"

"I am getting that relic," Allura said, "and wiping the Galra clean out of this galaxy."

Keith's body shivered. They were going toward the energy. He realized Allura's choice of words. "You?"

"Lance is taking you back to meet up with the others and get you out of here."

Keith bristled. He stopped, refusing to move. "No."

Lance's face fell, but he didn't say anything, like he knew that would be Keith's answer. Keith didn't know how to feel that Lance visibly disapproved of his decision, yet was not arguing the point either.

"I didn't ask for your opinion," Allura said.

"And I didn't ask for yours," Keith said back. "Whatever this relic is, it's calling to me. I might be the only one that can even get it out of here."

"It is a valid point," Marik said, a little too firmly. 

Allura shot him a look. "Was that your plan all along, to bring him there?"

Marik didn't deny it. 

"Okay, guys, look. We don't have  _time_." Lance gestured with his weapon, standing by Keith's side. Already they could hear the battle beyond the halls reaching a crescendo. "We do this together, okay? We're a team, aren't we?"

Allura cast Keith a look. Only several heartbeats went by, but it felt like hours before she gave a stiff nod. "Don't touch it if you can help it," she said. 

Keith made no promises.

Marik guided them through various corridors, stopping short when Galra rushed by. More than a handful of times they had to deal with one or two themselves, with considerable ease given Allura’s skill and Lance’s aiming eye. The temple was built not unlike a maze, and as the power's whispers started back up in Keith's head, the more disoriented he became.

They didn’t speak, or ask each other questions. The tension between them was thick and wide. It played a less important role put next to everything else.

Keith grappled with himself all the while, feeling the pull stronger the farther Marik escorted them. The farther they went, the more Galra they encountered, the greater his lack of perception. It came to the point where he needed Marik's arm to help him cross through the corridors.

"Keith?" Lance asked at some point after more Galra came upon them.

Keith grit his jaw tight. "We keep moving."

Another throng of Galra surprised them as they made it to a large set of doors that would lead into the core of the temple. Keith felt wretched, his breath shallow, his mind clouded with the whispers. They were almost making sense. He ached in the holes Lotor had mentally carved into him, his need to be closer to the energy like water needed for a parched man.

“Where the heck are they coming from?” Lance shot down another foe, panting.

“This is the most guarded position, even if your friends offered a distraction,” Marik said.

Lance took a moment to rush at Keith’s side, check on him. “He’s getting worse. We have to get him out of here fast. Marik, there’s got to be a way. He can’t make it much longer.”

“Yes, I can,” Keith said.

“More are coming,” Allura said. She yanked a more suitable weapon from an unconscious Galra and gestured at Marik.

“I’m not leaving without that relic,” Keith said. They all looked at him.

“Buy us time,” Marik offered, turning to the doors to get them open.

Keith leaned against the wall beside it, listening. He barely heard the battle as Galra charged toward them. Slowly, he was losing sense of the others around him, his world narrowing to the point of the planet’s power.

Keith didn’t remember touching the door, or how it opened under his touch obediently. Marik might have been there with him. Keith couldn’t tell. He was dragging himself forward. He could tell they were in a huge room, with a ceiling he couldn’t see no matter how hard he stared up.

A platform lead to the center, where something glimmered. Keith instantly knew what it was.

He moved ahead, following the path. There were layers of floors below him, and if he strained his focus, he could hear fights. He could hear Shiro, Pidge, Hunk. He could feel everything suddenly. The life pulsing in this room. 

It was all around him, encased in glass suspended into the walls. Creatures in bodysuits, creatures Keith somehow knew were from his nightmares. The faceless blurs. They all looked asleep, and ashen no matter what coloration they had. A shudder passed through him. It was like a morgue.

He didn’t know were more dead than alive. Everything was a buzz around him, and only one thing stood stark among it all.

Keith heard the core now. He looked at it and let his world gravitate around it.

A crystal-like thing suspended at the center of where the platform lead. There was no glass around it, only wires that hooked into the dais beneath it, likes veins that pumped its life into the planet itself. And then there were wires from the sleeping creatures trapped in glass, spilling onto every floor and all connecting to the epicenter of the room, the dais. 

In all his horror, Keith still stepped toward it still.

 _Yes._ Keith’s breath hitched at its calling. It wasn't speaking words, rather images. He couldn't even be startled to recognize Red communicated the same way with him.

There was a scream. Keith stopped and turned his head faintly.

Allura was staring at him from afar, eyes wide, and she screamed at him again. But he couldn’t understand what she said. There were Galra everywhere now. And another figure Keith saw, the only other thing that could keep his attention off the crystal.

“Lance…”

Keith focused on the way Lance gaped at him. Even from this distance he'd put between them, he could see the tautness of Lance’s body, the discoloration on his face. The Galra were closing in on him.

 _Save them._ Keith’s breath hitched again.

 _Closer_. Keith’s eyes tore away, back to the bright light. It had swelled with each step he took, and now flickered at his standstill.

“Keith!” Lance was shouting at him. It sounded like it was underwater, yet so much clearer than Allura’s words.

Keith didn't stop moving, and then, at long last, he was in front of the light. So close, it looked like a crystal. Keith remembered its design etched with care into the walls of a cave. Its brilliance overwhelmed him in person.

Commotion erupted around him, muffled as it was. He didn't dare look away from the crystal again. But it felt like everyone was screaming at him, everyone trying to rush for him. If it was real, or a side effect of his mental anguish, Keith didn't really care anymore.

Then, everything quieted as he reached a hand out.

The impending battle around him hung silent, as if over a precipice.

The power was telling him everything: Lotor was here somewhere. Furious. They had his teammates. They had Lance again. Lotor was screaming at the Galra. Lance screamed too, and the Galra were going to hurt him again.

 _Power._ Keith needed it. Longed for it. Just a little more would save Lance, help his team. That’s all he had wanted, hadn’t he? He couldn’t remember anymore.

The Galra stormed toward him. He barely heard them as he stared into the crystal.

 _Freedom_. Keith listened and then longed for all the promises. Felt it like a new intake of breath. Keith raised both hands toward it. Someone screamed louder.

_Let me in._

Keith grabbed it.

Everything wiped out of his mind. He heard nothing, saw nothing, and felt nothing.

In one heartbeat, Keith sensed it coming, sensed the madness he was about to unleash. He had lifted his head, barely, hoping Lance could read his lips, hear his whisper: _“Run.”_

And then, like the link between them had at last opened wide, it flooded into him.

**-x-**

Terror.

Lance had never seen that look on Keith’s face before. He saw Keith’s lips move silently.

Light exploded from where Keith touched the energy, ricocheting through the room with gusts of wind that tore them off their feet. Lance smashed into a wall and crumpled to the floor. He lifted his head weakly, squinting through the wind.

Keith screamed. It wasn't like what Lance had heard echo in the corridors. This was a sound Lance knew would haunt him forever. Keith screamed, and screamed, and screamed, his body nothing but a silhouette thrashing. He screamed when he had no voice left, the sounds sputtering out ragged and raw, each one a stab into Lance's heart.

“Keith…!” He clawed his way to hands and feet. They had to get to Keith. He had to. Keith was--

A hand steadied him when he faltered to stand. Hunk. But when they took a step forward, a final, more violent burst of power careened throughout the room. Lance braced himself, and then heard winds howling, felt the world falling out from under all of them.

Then, quiet.

Lance’s eyes fluttered open.

“...Keith…?”

His vision blurred, slowly smoothing out as consciousness returned to him. He’d crashed onto his side, Hunk cushioning the worst of his fall by the feel of the body against his. The winds had ebbed, clouds of dirt rising.

Lance groaned, pushing up onto an elbow, head lifting. The earth quivered, the sound of thunder above him. “The hell…”

It wasn’t thunder, but the sound of the island that once housed the temple crumbling onto Laranta. Their bodies were strewn across the ground where the floating steps to the temple had once been.

Lance gawked at the height from where they had been blown out of the temple.

And there, he saw Keith’s form through the haze of the chaos.

“Keith!” he called, but his voice was dust-filled and broken.

Keith’s body was arched far backward, unnaturally so, limbs dangling loose. He stood there for several moments until, without warning, his chest rose. The sound of his breath echoed through the air as if the skies had sighed with him.

Hope spiked through Lance.  

Then, Keith’s upper body snapped forward, hunched. Slowly, ever so slowly, he rose, and his head lifted.

Lance felt everything in him, even his hope, drop. “Keith…”

Keith’s head lolled sideways, jaw slack, gaze vacant on Lance. The nice purples of his eyes were burnt out, the epicenter of his pupils now pinpoints of white light fixed on Lance, telling him the one thing he didn't want to accept.

This wasn't Keith looking at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, I didn't want to explain too much and take away the flow of this chapter. But we're closer and closer to the end, so I hope you enjoy what's left of the ride! Also, I don't want this Lotor to be obsessed in love with Allura, but I still want him kind of fascinated by her for other reasons. 
> 
> Psst I also like to think this Lotor has a gender-eclectic harem instead of just women. Sorry, I am weak.
> 
> So much thanks to all your feedback. Seriously, I can't gush enough about it. I only wish I had more time to crank out chapters sooner as a thanks. I appreciate it so much. If you get the time to leave a comment, thank you so much in advance!!
> 
> And yes, I am also a terrible person for yet another cliffhanger. -grovels-


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a long chapter. please be warned of some blood among the chaos. And thank you as always.

Lance didn't blink.

He didn’t move.

In his debilitated state, he could mistake he was still knocked out and suspended in a dream. One where this thing staring at him froze everything inside of Lance. It was like its existence alone froze time between them, though the island continued to fragment all around them.

Keith’s body moved forward, and Lance felt his heart’s crescendo. Blood flooded through his limbs again and he blinked hard.

This wasn’t a dream.

They were living nightmare.

As if Keith’s movement turned time back on, Lance could hear the pained groans around him. Reality rushed back into his senses, the roar of the island’s death drowning out another sound that Lance could barely pick up now. Music.

He gasped, remembering the festival. Beneath his fingertips, he felt the grass drying up.

“Lance!”

Hunk was conscious beside him, and patting him down frantically now. “Lance, _Lance_ , snap out of it.”

Lance jerked at the treatment, only realizing now he had been staring at Keith again with a look that must have terrified Hunk. He forced himself to glance at his friend and accept help to get to his feet. His back was throbbing, and Lance had a sick feeling he might have re-torn himself some places.

But he didn’t care about any of that. His eyes went to Keith again.

“That’s not him,” Lance tried to ask, shuddering.

Hunk squeezed his waist gently. “I know...I know…”

Lance tried to pick his sight through the detritus what was left of their mission. Chunks of land were still descending slowly upon Laranta, their landing creating monstrous noises and making the planet quiver. Lance thought he could hear his teammates, and had to hope they were okay. His bayard laid nearby. Near it, was the dagger Lance had bought Keith. Lance didn't know if that was ironic.

Hunk helped him retrieve both.

All the while, Keith stared at him, a breeze playing through his hair.

“Keith…”

But they weren’t the only bodies that had survived the impact. Galra peppered Lance’s vision. Among them all, Lotor staggered at a far distance. Even far, Lance could see his fury.

Lotor’s voice carried over, vicious and unrelenting. “I want him _alive_!”

Lance tensed in Hunk’s arms, grappling feebly for his bayard. “No!”

The Galra that had picked themselves up at their prince’s orders charged, others taking aim. Keith’s head twitched in their direction just as the first assault rushed for him. It triggered action, and Lance watched in awe as the breeze that had filtered through Keith’s hair exploded into a torrent.

The winds swept up the Galra and hurled them like trinkets out of the way. Lance clung to Hunk harder.

He couldn’t look away. Keith and his non-Keith eyes ogled his hands, as if stunned that he had them, or that he could manipulate the power it did the way it had. And then, Lance had to remember, it wasn’t Keith doing any of this.

Was it?

Keith laughed, and the sound was like howls of wind the middle of the night, and just as haunting.

“It’s inside him,” Lance whispered. “It’s got him. It’s inside him and-”

If Hunk hadn’t held on tighter, Lance wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have curled into himself and thrown up his empty stomach.

“Lance,” Hunk said. It was a hard tone he rarely used, and maybe that always made it more effective. “We’ve got to get you out of here. You’re hurt. We. We can’t...We need to-.”

Lance couldn’t bear the thought of stepping farther away, but a sound startled them both. It was the quivering breath of someone dying. Adrenaline pumped through Lance and made his body move, stumbling over fallen rock and shattered glass until he saw it.

Inside the deepest pits of the temple, Lance had seen them as surely as everyone had. Bodies encased in glass not unlike the ones that had once held remnants of the crystal's power in spheres. He had barely glimpsed at them before Galra fell upon them, but he’d seen them. Corpses, he had thought.

Now, he realized they weren’t. He found her shuddering for her last breaths. Lance crouched by her, telling her it was going to be okay, knowing it was a lie. He felt wretched for it. She died looking up at him like she might know him. Hunk had the kindness to close her eyes when Lance could only gape at her glazing eyes.

There were more. They all were strapped in the same kind of bodysuit, and only now were some of them truly becoming corpses.

“We have to help them,” Lance said shakily, knowing that, too, was a lie. They were already dead, or dying. “And the people. We need to get them out of here.”

“Lance! Hunk!”

Lance’s energy picked up from sheer relief. It plummeted back down when he let go of the dead alien's hand. Pidge scrambled their way toward them, their Voltron gear a little worse for wear. They hunched over to catch their breath, then sucked it all back in at the sight of the corpse.

Pidge pressed their lips into a fine line.

“Are you hurt?” Lance asked. He was starting to feel numb. Couldn't be a good sign.

“Look in the mirror,” Pidge said, but their eyes were on the body. “Hell." They pinched their eyes tightly and then looked away. "The Galra are practically ignoring us. We have to get to safer ground and evacuate everyone. Keith’s...”

They didn’t finish that, but Lance understood the rest: _Gone._

Lance looked back at Keith. Lotor’s men were hesitant to near him now. Keith was still studying his hands, but had stopped laughing. His chin was tilted up, gaze fixed on the first crest of the buildings marking the warehouses. Beyond them, the domes and spirals of the edifices marked the start of the town.

Even from here, Lance felt the building anger in Keith’s body. And then it exploded outward as another gust of wind that spiked through the corner of a warehouse. It struck one of the ones that had been caught in the previous attack, and with its building already on a weak foundation, more than a third of it was torn apart by the wind.

Lance flinched as another blast skinned off another warehouse’s wall. There was rage in the attacks, and a delight at the destruction. The Galra scrambled, poised and reluctant to pursue. Lance couldn’t see Lotor anywhere with the explosions of debris.

The ground quaked again.

Keith laughed.

Another building detonated.

He laughed more.

Somewhere too far away, another chunk of land crashed into the planet.

“Keith,” Lance whispered.

Hunk saved him from having a piece of a building land on him. From there on, the destruction forced him them along to higher ground. Bits of bodies dotted the ground, pinned under detritus, a few others strewn about. None of them were alive. Lance's hands trembled.

He cast glances back at Keith when he couldn't endure looking at the ground anymore. The Galra were engaging again, and struggling.

“Lance! Pidge! Hunk!”

At the familiar voice, Lance rushed as much as he could manage. They crested over a small hill fabricated out of Keith’s violence and found the others. Shiro’s shoulders visibly relaxed at seeing them. Allura straightened and breathed easier, though she gave Lance a critical once-over.

“I’ll make it,” Lance said, more on auto-pilot than anything else. He looked at Marik, spotting his hulking form behind the princess, ears flat, cradling an injured arm. Lance’s mouth felt drier.

He forced himself forward, straight into Marik’s personal space. This wasn’t the time for it, but he had to know. “What’s happening to him?”

Marik deflated.

The numbness was cut clean by a barb of anger. “Don’t _act_ like you don’t know!”

Allura’s hand on Lance had the opposite of calming him down. He stared at her, eyes wide. He hated how desperate he sounded. “Did _you_ know?”

He wanted her to tell him he was being paranoid. Instead, she steeled her gaze and gave a tired kind of sigh. “I didn’t want him to get close to it. I feared something like this might happen, but no, I couldn't know for sure.”

Keith’s laughter fell to raucous shouts. They all shielded themselves as the chaos drizzled down on them.

“We don’t stand a chance like this,” Shiro said, scanning them all. Lance figured it was to ensure none of them were yet dead. “We need our lions.”

Lance stiffened, suddenly struck with more dread. “Red.”

Shiro peered at him. “What about Red?”

“Keith said something was wrong with his connection with Red. We all know how crazy protective she is. Why isn’t she here going crazy? He is...Can’t she…?”

Allura was quick to touch her ear and reach Coran. “We have an emergency. We need assistance in evacuations and a status on Red.” Her face tightening told Lance everything. “Thanks, Coran. See you soon. Be careful. Galra may see you as a threat yet if you make yourself known.”

“Red?” Lance pressed.

“She’s...not responsive. Something’s wrong.”

Lance swallowed. His eyes darted to Keith, then Shiro. “He’s going to destroy this place, isn’t he?”

He wasn’t sure who he was asking, but it was Marik that said, “It will try.”

The crystal. Lance blinked, but the nightmare was still raging on.

“Why?” Hunk demanded.

Shiro shook his head. “We have to act. We can question things later. There’s no way we can...stop Keith just as ourselves.” He, too looked at Marik now.

Their guide shook his head slowly.

“The host it took last before His Em-ah...Keith, died.”

Lance grit his teeth. “And the guys in the glass?”

“They were already dead.” Marik looked like he might pass out. “But my people,” he glanced backward.

Lance felt everything go cold.

“We contain Keith,” Shiro decided. Lance was forever grateful he was capable of sane decisions, if his voice was heavy with the unknown. “And protect the people. Pidge, you and I will work with Marik to evacuate and save any we can here. Pidge, Allura...”

It was the best they could do, and Lance knew his hands would have been trembling had Hunk not passed him his bayard to grip. He half-listened to Shiro, and the rest of him couldn’t block out the madness unleashing out of Keith.

He only perked up when Shiro suggested he return to the castle and assist Coran from there in evacuations.

“No,” Lance said, and he wouldn’t accept another answer. “Keith needs me.”

The way he said it, the way he looked when he said it, was enough.

Keith laughed again.

**-x-**

_It did not hurt in the beginning._

Keith flexed his hands. Galra staggered. Fell.

_They listened to the far away king, smiled at his guidance. They never smiled at me like that. But the far away king would return, and he would smile at me each time. He made sure upon his visits to see me. He would tell them how to mind me gently._

The wind cut his face.

_They were supposed to take care of me._

More.

_They promised to treat me kindly._

Rip apart more. It was a need pulsing in time with his blood. It roared like the wind.

_The far away king stopped returning._

Chest burning. Keith hacked. Unsteady breaths. Deep into his hands.

_The kindness stopped._

Palms soaked in blood.

**-x-**

**Keith sank into a void.**

**The void was the thing. Alive. Inside him. Feelings he knew so well. Anger. Isolation. Loathing. Heartbreak.**

**He did not know where he existed, but saw the blackness of space.**

**His body was breaking. He felt it, and could not move.**

**He felt a burn in his chest, a sensation of blood welling in his throat, but in this limbo he couldn’t see if there was really any blood on him.**

**He forgot himself.**

**-x-**

Lance felt Blue’s concern like a much needed comfort.  He gripped her handles, giving himself only a breath’s time span to let her feelings dilute some of his worst ones. She energized him. Grounded his faith in his comrades.

Coran was right. Something was wrong with Red.

Her usually stance always had the lining of her stubbornness, the same way Keith would pull his shoulders when standing up against Lance, was gone. Red was on her side, and though Lance was not her pilot, he sensed a vacancy about her. It chased a chill up  his spine.

He had wanted to bring her down with them, but the Galra were very much active now. They could not risk her being snatched up in her state.

Blue seemed just as reluctant to leave Red prone in the castle, alone. It was her, however, that gave Lance the mental push he needed to drive them on out of there and dive back to Laranta’s land, his fellow teammates’ faces on the interior screens. The Yellow Lion hunkered along side at his heels.

They spun around through still crumbling islands, and blew through plumes of smoke and dust. From this aerial view, Lance saw the greenery of Laranta paling, shriveling up before his eyes. He found Keith advancing through debilitated husks that were once buildings.

“Lance,” Allura said, “remember, this isn’t just Keith. That energy source...the crystal is inside him.”

“It’s still Keith in there somewhere.”

Hunk’s face on the other screen looked disturbed. “How do we get it out of him?”

Both Blue and Yellow surged out of the way as the wind chucked scraps of Laranta at them.

“We stop him first,” Lance said, not knowing how the hell to do any of that.

“He is not invincible. It’s...in a mortal body.” Marik shared the screen with Allura, probably only because he had any insight at all. Otherwise Lance was sure their princess would have been fine dumping his ass in some kind of cell.

Lance would be, if only for the way Marik said that. An immortal thing inside Keith. Lance couldn’t grasp that concept at all, and luckily didn’t have the time to. Blue warned him of an incoming attack, and he narrowly dodged fire from the Galra.

They, too, had called to more proper arms.

Shit.

Lance glanced to his right where the others were evacuating. By now, they could almost make out the screams of the citizens as the danger set in. Already Keith had somehow reached the city limits. The Galra’s presence further escalated the terror, but they didn’t seem inclined to care at all. Their attention, much like Lance’s, was devoted to getting to Keith.

War had broken loose.

Lance and Hunk worked in unison, plowing through Galra forces and their weaponry. He heard the shrill warnings of _Voltron! Voltron is here!_ and the commands to leave them for dead as much as they had orders to take Keith alive. There was no sign of Lotor.

Hunk bulldozed his way through a line of them, clearing a path. “Go!”

Lance didn’t waste the moment. He charged with Blue, in time to absorb an attack from Keith that would have struck both Galra and a structure not yet fully evacuated. The thing inside Keith wasn’t stupid. It was targeting its attacks toward the crescendo of panicked screams. It was aiming for the civilians.

“Shiro, he’s purposely going after Laranta’s people.”

“Understood.”

Lance didn’t think he really could, but soon Lance could see Pidge intercept the evacuations and steer it so the noises dimmed and Keith’s vision was blocked. Lance put his trust in Hunk to keep the Galra at bay. Blue stepped in Keith’s direct line of sight.

Keith’s head barely lifted to acknowledge the new obstacle.

Lance pressed his lips firmly together. Keith had treaded with an unnatural limp, as if the thing inside him was still adjusting to orchestrating a live host. Now, he stood still. Blue’s gaze zoomed in on Keith’s state. Lance saw the blood smearing his chin and hands, trickling from his nose.

“God, Keith…”

Keith coughed suddenly, a violent spasm that explained where the blood had come from.

An immortal in a mortal’s body, Marik had said. Lance’s heart plummeted.

"It's killing him," Lance whispered.

“What?” Hunk had to shout to be heard.

Lance flicked on the speaker so Keith could (please, let him) hear. “ _Keith!_ Please...I know you’re in there. You have to stop! Look around you! Keith!”

Keith ogled his hands now, eyes wide. Slowly, his arms lowered. He listened, it must have been, because gradually his bright-pupiled eyes lowered to what was beneath his slippered feet. Lance barely noticed it until Blue zoomed in further. The hand of one of the aliens that had been encased, the rest of their body crushed beneath rock. A cracked orb that had once held some of the energy’s power laid broken not two feet from it.

Lance held his breath. Blue was restless. He kept her still.

Keith stepped back. His chest hitched. His whole body twitched as if repulsed. His gaze went back to his bloody hands, to the body. Then another body not ten feet away. Another dead alien. And another, until Keith was looking for all of them, seeing all of them as if for the first time.

He screamed.

**-x-**

So many faces. Beaten. Bloodied. Sad.

_So many lives._

Memories that were not his own. Proud father. Hugging children. A big sister. Smile as big as she. Promises made from her, and now broken.

_They haunt me sometimes. They will not leave me be._

Each of them. Lives fed into energy. Fragments of their soul.

_I devoured them all._

Clawing at him, begging for release.

_I did not want it. I did not want it._

The winds screamed with him.

**-x-**

**Keith drifted deeper into the void, wishing he could scream.**

**-x-**

Lance flew out of Blue, right into the storm.

He cried out, flown back. Blue’s leg steadied him. He ignored her warning and rushed forward. Keith screamed like he was being killed, over and over, like each life he saw dead on the cracked earth was his own life ending.

Lance screamed for him, shielding his face against the torrent. The wind cut his face, shoved his chest. He didn’t know how he didn’t die right then and there. The Galra would come for Keith when he was like this, consumed in his own grief and psychosis.

Keith's screams were broken apart by the shrieks of the winds and the floating islands, buildings, being torn to shreds. Lance yelped as debris crashed into him and he rolled into a heap. He gave Blue a mental shove away from him. He dragged himself back up onto hands and knees.

He pushed onward.

The world itself felt swallowed by the storm. Lance couldn’t hear his team, the Galra, his own cries.

His cut up hands clawed the dirt and he surged forward.

Keith’s robes billowed, hands clawing at his head, his face. His back faced Lance now, but the wind picked up the deep-seeded rage and tried to blow Lance off the face of the planet.

He dug his heels in, and leapt.

He swept his arms around Keith’s waist, buried his face in torn robes. Lance clung like his very heart was Keith and he’d die if he let go.

He screamed Keith’s name and hung on tightly.

Muscles froze beneath his touch. The winds hissed and spat, but Lance held on still. He rode out all of Keith’s screams, the wrecked sobs that stumbled in their wake.

“I got you,” he promised, and promised, and promised, his grip tightening with each one.

The wind trickled down to a breeze. Lance didn’t dare let go. He thought if he let go, he might truly die.

**-x-**

_The king said I would do great things._

_He said I was a great thing._

_I want to do great things. Now, it only hurts._

_They need to hurt too._

**-x-**

**Keith suffocated.**

**He didn’t want to forget, but if he opened his mouth to scream, to breathe, whatever was hurting inside him would spill out and instead devour him.**

**If he could keep it inside a little longer, if he could convince it that he understood its agony.**

**But he was forgetting, sinking too deeply, too fast.**

**Desperation spiked through him, and he gave a final reach.**

**And then, he felt her. A nuzzle against his palm.**

**She bit down hard.**

**-x-**

Lance did not let go.

Then, he heard it: **_“La...nce…”_ **

Lance’s body shook with a sob he wouldn’t let come out. He nodded. He didn’t care what was happening around them right now. He held Keith in his arms, and Keith, _Keith_ had said his name.

Slowly, without Lance breaking his hold, Keith turned.

Lance shifted, gazing down into those strange eyes. He’d never been so petrified as in that moment. His hands locked behind Keith’s back. He remembered Keith finding solace in his presence, of the calm he seemed capable of laying over Keith’s anxieties.

“I got you,” Lance promised. “I got both of you. Okay?”

Even now, the little specks of color on his cheeks shone through the dirt and blood caked on Keith’s face. Lance choked on a sound, remembering the first time he’d seen Keith in his makeup, of how young he felt in that moment.

“Okay?” Lance repeated, a whisper.

Keith’s unnatural eyes darted over his features. The movement haunted Lance.

“It’s me. Just look at me. Just me.”

The wind died. Not even a breeze tickled through their hair. A shadow like a cloud began to cast over them. Lance didn’t dare look anywhere but Keith’s eyes.

Keith’s hand trembled, lifting. Lance, not daring to spook him, kept himself still as it rose. Slowly, it touched his chest, bloodying his already bloody tunic. Right over his heart, those fingers spread wide, palm pressed. Lance knew Keith and whatever was inside him could feel his heart thumping.

Lance managed a tired, tiny smile.

Keith didn’t smile. Instead, he _pushed_.

Lance felt it happen so slowly, slower than when Keith had come to touch him. He was thrown back, propelled with a wind. At the same time, he saw why: the Galra ship far above, the open hatch and the gravitational pull that had trapped Keith and was sucking him right up. All with the weakest twitch of Keith’s lips, those abnormal eyes locked on him.

Lance didn’t hear his own scream.

**-x-**

_Hurts._

**Keith knew.**

_Why did they hurt me?_

**Keith didn’t know.**

_Where did the kind king go?_

**Keith thought he knew.**

_I am tired._

**Keith prayed it would sleep.**

**-x-**

Gradually, Keith came back to reality. Not fully, and what piece of him had surpassed the crystallized energy’s consciousness was battered and breaking.

The crystal thrummed in his veins, pushing against his soul, brightened the world in new kinds of colors.

Keith saw Lotor through new eyes, the tendrils of anger like a foul odor clinging to the prince.

Keith knew he would not have this view for long. Every breath came shallow, and burned his lungs. His body quivered, both from the taxation of two beings struggling as one, and his own self-awareness of his mounting anxieties.

The power was docile, almost, right now. It was as if Lance (stupidly brave and brilliant Lance) had startled it, like it couldn’t fathom Lance’s behavior and words. It didn’t, really, but Keith had understood them, if only thanks to the thread linking him with Red.

She hadn’t abandoned him, nor he her. She’d found him, like she always did, in the recesses of that terrible void, and woke him up. But it wasn’t just his hand that had pushed Lance to safety. The thing inside him had done it too.

 ****How much longer he could stay awake, or survive his current state, Keith didn’t know.

It was surreal. Just like a dream. Not all thoughts were his own. Not all feelings his to claim, and yet there they were. It was worse, knowing Lotor was not the sole cause of this madness. It would have been so much easier to blame the Galra.

But this creature had long since been abused before the Galra stuck their claws into the fray.

Keith shuddered.

It was exhausted. He was, too. His body was coping with two souls’ weariness.

“You caused me plenty of trouble,” Lotor was saying. Even his voice sounded strange, as if underwater. Keith had no concept of time.

But Lotor didn’t sound upset. A smile cut his face when Keith’s eyes darted to his bright, Galra eyes. “It will be worth it,” the prince said.

They were in someplace darker, the ship he’d ( _it_ ) had sensed. Keith was encased in some clear-coffin. It felt heavy around him. He had already pushed his hands against it, felt the surge of wind try to shatter himself free. It had creaked, and done nothing else. When he tried again, he coughed up more blood.

The thing in him was too weary right now. Keith couldn’t break free alone.

He wanted his teammates.

He wanted Red.

He wanted Lance.

“Spectacular,” Lotor said, but Keith’s hearing was getting more distant. He wasn’t going to survive like this. Lotor looked like he was betting he could. “Such power and little ways to channel it once your physical form is stretched thin. Don’t worry. I’ve prepared for this. You’ll endure for me.”

Keith’s eyes fluttered. He needed to stay more conscious than the crystal.

He replayed Lance’s grief-stricken face in his mind again.

**-x-**

Lance felt as if a piece of himself was dying.

He barely reacted to Coran wrapping what injuries he could, when normally he would be all yelps and bitching. Lance had refused to go into the healing pod. He refused to be put to a deep sleep until Keith was back safely. Instead, he studied the dagger he'd given Keith, squeezing the hilt where Keith's hands once held it.

He also watched Laranta smoke in the aftermath of its part-destruction. Upon finding the monarch, Shiro utilized her influence to ease the evacuations into something manageable. As it were, hundreds of citizens awaited inside ships and vessels that had docked in plenty supply for the festivals. There was no more music playing.

Coran squeezed harder than necessary on the bandage around his back. Lance finally hissed and glared at him. 

Coran’s smile was sad. “Good,” he said. Lance had no idea what he was talking about.

After the shock of Keith’s abduction, Lance had scrambled into Blue, shouting at his team, ramming buttons and trying to go after the ship. The Galra attacked him then. Hunk came after him. Blue dragged him back to the castle. He had yelled at her, badly, but she wouldn’t let him go on an emotionally charged suicidal mission.

Lance wanted to be mad with her.

“She knew,” Lance finally said. Maybe it was his way of thanks to Coran for putting up with him, for treating the worst of his injuries so Lance wouldn’t literally fall apart. 

Coran knew he meant the monarch, who was now aboard the castle.

“So I’ve come to gather,” Coran said. “I suspect she was fine to hand you both over, if it meant sparing her people.”

Lance looked at him again, eyes wide. “Save her people?”

Coran gave him a look that made Lance’s stare shrivel up a little. “I am not condoning. I am only expressing a point of view.”

“What good does it do?”

“Alteans,” Coran paused to think of what tense to use, “are a peaceful people. Understanding the various views of the creatures that live in the universe are a vital part in ensuring peace.”

Lance digested that, if only because it was Coran saying it, right now, sticking some kind of gauze to a bad cut on Lance’s face.

“I think it had a point of view too.”

Coran met his gaze briefly again. Lance had already told the details of what transpired down there with Keith to everyone by now. “...I think so too.”

"Lotor has a point of view too."

Lance knew it was a cheap shot, instead of asking outright, but he was barely managing. Instantly though, he regretted taking it out on Coran. The Altean held his gaze with no judgment. There was something upsetting in his expression. It reminded Lance of when they'd learned that Zarkon still existed.

"That's not my story to tell," Coran finally said.

Lance’s voice hurt. He stopped talking and tucked the dagger away.

Coran eased him to his feet, a hand out for balance when Lance swayed. “We’ll get him back,” Coran said, gripping his arm.

Lance forced down the pitiful sound that almost spilled out of him. He looked over Coran, who looked rather tired, which was the equivalent of looking wrecked by Coran’s typical standard. He’d worked nonstop in the evacuation and simultaneously scaring off Galra and the sudden mercenary attacks (because of course, there was always opportunity for mercs during a war).

It was hard, but Lance worked out a smile. “Thanks, Coran. Good as new.”

Coran gave a little chuckle, both of them knowing it was a lie they would play along with. Lance limped back to the control room, eyes seeking Pidge out first. They spotted him, face scrunching up at how dented and how many things Coran slapped on him to keep Lance from passing out. Pidge had been the most vocal about Lance not getting in the healing pod.

“Their ship has coordinates to the moon,” Pidge said in way of greeting. 

Lance blinked. “The moon?”

Shiro came into view and gestured for Lance to take his usual seat. Lance did, gingerly, and trying not to wince. Hunk hadn’t taken his own seat, instead propped up beside Lance’s.

“How are you doing?” Shiro asked instead of answering his question.

Lance sighed. “Great.”

Everyone stared at him. Lance shrunk into his shoulders, then yelped when his back pressed against his seat. He smiled sheepish. “Alive?”

“You’re an idiot,” Pidge said.

“Pidge,” Shiro said. He looked like he wanted to say more to Lance, but he had already said plenty, which is why Lance ended up stuck in the castle with Coran on nurse duties while everyone else was cleaning up messes. Bodies. “Lance, we need you--”

“I know. I know. I swear, I’ll,” Lance had to swallow hard once more, “we gotta get Keith back first.”

Somehow, that sufficed. Shiro especially looked at him with a softer look that Lance didn’t understand. It was similar to how he felt in their tavern rendezvous. That was forever ago.

“So,” Lance added, “the moon.”

Allura, Marik, and the monarch stepped in then. Lance straightened, taking them all in. The monarch’s shoulders didn’t look as strong, and her chin not as lifted. She, too, looked spent. Lance bit down on his tongue before he said something he’d regret.

“The prince,” the monarch began, somehow able to meet each of their gazes, “has residency there. It was part of the agreement.”

“How long ago?” asked Shiro.

“Long before my reign. They came so long ago, the prince and his men. At that time, our galaxy was aware of Zarkon’s tyranny closing in on us. Laranta in particular was fruitful. He would come for us first.”

Allura looked like she’d been privy to this story prior to bringing the monarch in. Lance expected as much, and it had been Shiro’s suggestion that the princess have the opportunity to speak to the monarch first upon her arrival, after the safety of her people were secured.

Lance kind of wondered what that first meeting had been like. He wondered if Altea had been under the same stress, what they would have done. To him it seemed working with the Galra would never have been an option worth considering. Zarkon took by force, but Lotor dropped threats packaged as sweet promises. To Lance, that was more dangerous.

“The prince granted...security against his father,” the monarch continued, with a little sound that was like a sigh. Maybe there was relief in spilling the truth out. Or shame in admitting this to the people that might have been her only hope at one time. 

“You agreed,” Hunk said. “You weren’t worried he’d...betray you? He's Zarkon's son.” Hunk sounded sick hearing that part aloud.

"Clearly Lotor has daddy issues," Lance said, still looking at the monarch. "Was that enough to trust him?"

“We knew he wanted our crystal,” the monarch said. “He only knew it was a sort of power at the time.” She made that sighing sound again.

Marik spoke up then, tone less factual now. He sounded wretched. Lance wished he could feel glad about that. “Lotor had access to the crystal because we knew his chances of taking it were nearly nonexistent. At the least, it would bide us time.”

He trailed off, and everyone seemed to understand that what they were biding for had never existed for these people.

Allura stopped watching them and addressed the team. “My father knew about it too.”

Lance gaped. “King Alfor?” he blurted out, not missing the way Marik winced at the name.

“It was one of the reasons he made the long travel here,” Allura said. “I’m certain of it now. True, my father would travel great distances for peace, but this was frequent by his standards. He was coming to the power that had blessed Laranta with life.”

She didn’t say more, like it wasn’t her story to tell. Gradually, the monarch confessed.

“It’s true. Long ago, Laranta and its moon was barren. Then, this gift fell upon our moon, and things were green, a great power giving it life. It’s at best a legend now.”

Lance recalled the caves, the story carved into the walls and the faded power that lingered there. He thought of holding Keith, and the way Keith had looked at him, how that _thing_ in him had looked. Like it had not known kindness in too long.

He thought about Blue and relied on her comfort to endure the rest of the story.

Lance looked at Allura. “It’s the same, isn’t it?”

Allura held his gaze. “I cannot say it’s the same, but I do believe my father came here because of it. What his intentions were though...I could not speak for him.”

Lance’s breath felt weak.

Luckily, Allura pressed on without his questions. “My father created the lions, but he did not create the life inside them.”

The monarch clasped her hands tightly in front of her. “King Alfor came. I recall my great-great paternals' tales of him. He would grace us with a visit, see how our crystal was fairing. He spoke to it, suggested how we could ensure it thrived. Then...he did not come anymore.”

Lance couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Without King Alfor’s guidance, something overcame the aliens. Greed? Vengeance? Lance didn’t care what it was.

The monarch went on; they had uprooted the crystal, thinking it would serve best as Laranta’s heart. In their attempt, the crystal’s power killed those that tried to take it. They starved it then, willing to weak its power. Then, a host was called upon, one that could hear the crystal. The crystal possessed the alien, and she fell into unconsciousness. They took her to Laranta. She died, and the crystal was secured under a temple devoted for it. No one now can say for sure how it had been secured. It might have been intentional, to never let another soul know it could be done.

After that, the monarchs of old abused the crystal's abilities. It channeled the crystal’s power where it sought fit, pumped the life force of aliens into it to keep it plump with excess energy. It fueled buildings, appliances, made islands float, kept the pretty purple flowers the brightest shade of purple.

Lance remembered the tale of that alien from the party and her beloved. How he’d been given a greater duty. Lance's stomach heaved thinking her loved one was one of those they’d seen dead on Laranta’s dirt. An honorable sacrifice, as it would be called.

The monarch trailed off. No one spoke.

She added, carefully, "Us monarchs were told this young, so we knew what was expected of us to keep Laranta's prosperity."

"Prosperity?" Hunk sounded uncharacteristically mad. Lance glanced at him, recalling that first time Hunk met Shay and her people. It was the first time Hunk had seen oppression like that up close. Hunk gestured to the screen that still showed the live feed of Laranta smoking. "This is prosperity?"

The monarch clenched her hands harder. "It was wrong to keep the tradition. I didn't know what else to do."

Marik shut his eyes. Lance thought he just had a glimpse into the struggle that had been brewing between Marik and the monarch. 

"You gave us up to Lotor," Lance said, but he was watching Marik. "But you wanted us to go to the crystal."

His former guide opened his eyes again. "I had nothing but faith that His Em-ah...Keith, was chosen. I believed he could...he can right these wrongs. The monarch did not agree with my speculations."

"You said the last host was killed," Shiro said.

Marik frowned. "With time, Keith will be killed. His body will deteriorate."

Lance visibly flinched. His fingernails cut into his palms.

"It wants to destroy everything," Marik went on.

"You took advantage of it," Pidge finally said, hard. "Of course it's trying to kill you now."

Shiro said, " _Pidge_."

"What? It's _true_."

Marik blinked slowly. "Laranta should not exist anymore."

Everyone stilled at the words. Even the monarch looked aghast by Marik's words.

"The moment our ancestors tainted the crystal, we lost the right to have its blessing." Marik shut his eyes again. He didn't elaborate, and didn't need to as far as Lance was concerned. All those doodles Marik did, all his relentless work: had it all been an effort to free the crystal? Lance knew he had no right to that personal story, and the bitterness he still felt toward Marik made it easier to accept that.

"But you have faith," Lance said. He stood up slowly. "About Keith."

Marik's ears perked up at the name. "I do."

"What kind of faith?"

Marik opened his eyes once more. He looked more weary than ever. "Do you not have faith in your friends here?"

Lance's jaw ticked. "Of course I do."

"Do not make me ask you what kind of faith that is."

"Your  _faith_  put Keith on a shitty Galra ship, possessed by some...some crystal-power-thing! What good is your faith now? Huh?"

Marik looked pained by the words, and Lance wished he could feel good about that too. Instead, he felt miserable. Allura surprised him by coming to him, and only then Lance realized he had been closing the gap between himself and Marik and the monarch. Allura blocked his view of the monarch, but Marik was too big to block. Still, she touched his shoulder.

"Sometimes faith is all we have," Allura said. Lance felt something inside him quiver. He stomped it back down. His eyes burned. She squeezed his shoulder firmly. "And it's a start to keep us on the right track."

Shiro was by Lance's side now too. He touched Lance's other shoulder, wordlessly.

Lance fought back the sob that had almost flown out of him. He scrubbed his face hard and had enough of these damn stories. It didn't change the fact that Keith was not here.

"Okay," he finally breathed. "Then getting Keith back is still priority, whatever is in him. So let's get him back. Again."

"The moon will be infested with Galra," Shiro said, and Lance was grateful he turned the topic to their next plan of attack. "Only Pidge would be able to sneak in undetected."

"I won't be able to pinpoint where they are," Pidge added through a huff. Their earlier anger was also put on the back burner. "They'll have something to mask their location I'm sure."

Lance straightened. "Do you guys still have the coordinates of where Keith and I crashed?"

Pidge narrowed an eye. "Yeah...Why?"

For the first time in what felt like forever, Lance felt hopeful again. “I think I know someone who can help,” he said.

**-x-**

Keith let his eyes close.

**He grabbed for the light’s power. He’d been promised it, hadn’t it? But the light from the crystal recoiled away at his demands.**

Keith seized up inside the glass and coughed.

**He clawed for it, angry he was out of its reach. In the corner of this other vision, he could make out Red. When the abyss began to take him again, she bit him.**

Keith startled back into consciousness. Forms moved around him. Something massive and swathed in black hovered behind the movements. Was it there before?

“You look a little more lucid,” Lotor said, coming into his view. “I take it as a good sign for you both. See, you two need to be separated.”

Keith pressed a weary hand against the glass.

“I will make it better for both of you.”

**Keith grabbed for it again.**

**-x-**

It was sobering to see the ship he and Keith crash-landed in still there, abandoned to the wild. Lance didn’t know if any investigation had been done on it, and had to just be grateful it was there for Pidge to track. He’d take any convenience he could get.

In their lions, it made maneuvering the wilderness easier, which meant it wouldn’t take as long to find Rodi and his village. That, and the state of the moon. Like Laranta, its vibrancy was fading, its life wilting. Whatever power the crystal had was punishing Laranta’s moon just as mercilessly.

Lance swallowed, still battling the emotions he felt. Of returning to the village he and Keith had come to be fond over, of knowing it wasn’t ever going to be like that again, of daring to ask Rodi for help in something dangerous.

“Lance.”

At Pidge’s voice, Lance glanced at the screen that held their face. It was a familiarly sour face as of late.

“What?”

“Are you,” Pidge paused, as if about to ask ‘okay’ and knowing that no, Lance was not okay. “Keith’s stubborn.”

Lance looked away, focusing instead on the wildlife. What was left of it, anyway.

Pidge went on. “He’s not going to let anything have its way with him easily.”

Faith, Marik had said. Lance sighed. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Lance?”

Lance peeked back and saw Pidge’s shoulders slump. He made sure only their connection was live. Their gazes caught, and Pidge dropped their eyes first.

“I’m sorry,” Pidge said. “If I had been able to get into the system faster, if--”

“Don’t.”

Pidge raised their head.

Lance’s smile was tiny, but it was real. “You did so much for us, Pidge. Not just the team. But me and Keith. So, no. Don’t. Don’t even dare to think this is any one of our fault’s.”

Pidge smiled back just as tiny, and just as real. “Let’s get him back.”

The way Pidge said it, Lance knew none of them would think of leaving without Keith. There was a comfort, however small, in that fact.

Hope swarmed back through Lance when the village came into his view. He was the first to spot it, remembering the slopes of the huts tucked into the foliage. Knowing what to look for was the greatest benefit, and Lance seized it.

Their arrival was loud, save for Pidge, who navigated in the Green Lion with grace and ease in this environment. They reached the village first.

“Guys…”

Lance hurried on until Blue came to a sudden halt. The village, once a quiet collection of noise and natives, stood barren. Frantic, Lance scrambled out of Blue despite Shiro’s warning. Maybe Lance felt that someone had to take Keith’s recklessness and throw it back into the team.

Lance encountered no danger though. He burst through dangling vines, peeked around known hiding spots of children, and dashed to the cave. No one. He breathed heavily. He could hear Shiro running after him, the cave echoing their calls and steps.

It was all wrong.

The weak pulse of the cave drew his attention to its walls. The light looked brighter than his first visit, when the kids had grabbed his hands, laughed, played with him. With Keith. Lance stepped closer, mind picking up details as the fear leveled itself out.

Claw marks.

Scuffs of highly disturbed dirt.

“Lance.” Shiro’s tone was curt, but Lance ignored it for now.

“They were taken,” Lance said. He knew it in his gut. The kids would have come to hide here maybe.

Shiro frowned, but he didn’t need further explanation. “The Galra moved fast.”

“They must have been gathering them since Lotor got a hold of Keith,” Lance said. "Lotor didn't plan Keith to be a host so soon, but he had expected it anyway. He was preparing."

Lance had a dreadful memory of the bodies lined in glass coffins, alive, but already dead anyway. Sacrifices. He envisioned faces he knew, Rodi and the kids among them. Lance’s stomach heaved.

He didn’t realize he’d almost puked until he heard Shiro’s voice. He couldn’t make out the words, only that they were soothing. Shiro’s fingers felt warm through his uniform, strong on the back of Lance’s neck as the panic buried itself somewhere deep.

“Breathe.”

Lance could do that. He grabbed the fragile threads of his psyche and pulled himself up gradually. He didn’t have the luxury to have any kind of panic attack. His limbs quivered as he righted up. Shiro stood close, hand still on his neck.

In Shiro’s gaze, Lance could see he wanted to tell him to stay back in the castle. They both knew that wouldn’t happen.

“I’m fine,” Lance said.

Shiro’s gaze hardened, and Lance felt guilty. It was the same as when his mom caught him in a lie he thought he’d mastered. He lowered his own gaze and let Shiro squeeze his shoulder.

“It’s okay to be scared, Lance.”

“Scared? Me?” Lance knew how pitiful he sounded. How terrified he looked. Before he could build the lie further, Shiro dragged him in closer. It wasn’t exactly a conventional hug, but Lance instantly sucked in all the comfort in the gesture. He pinched his eyes shut.

“Come on,” Shiro said, patting his back. “You aren’t alone in this.”

Lance stole a final glance back at the opening where the waterfall trickled on. He frowned, turning back.

"Lance?"

Lance put a hand to stop Shiro from following him. Cautious, he stepped into the small clearing and listened. It was hidden under the trickling water, but Lance picked up on it. Carefully, he crouched, facing a bush that lined the water.

"Hey," he said gently.

Immediately, three little heads poked out. Lance stared. Three of the kids he'd played with, one of which was the one that had dozed off in his arms.

Alive. Petrified, but unhurt.

The bigger of the three hesitated, as if not believing it was Lance. Then, when Lance grinned, they broke loose and dashed into his waiting arms. They sobbed and stumbled over each other's stories of what had happened, of how they fled but the bigger kid had only been able to save two of them.

"You're a real hero," Lance told him, stroking the soft tuffs of his head. "We'll get them back. My friends are here now too."

"More warriors?"

Lance smiled down. "Yeah." He glanced back toward where Shiro lurked by the mouth of the cave.

"Where is your royal _male lle_?"

Lance choked on a broken laugh. How he missed these kids. How much that word rung true in his heart hearing it now.

"He was taken too," he told them, smoothing their ears when they all gasped. "But we'll get him back too. You'll come back with us."

Slowly, he looked down at the biggest one. "The facility the troopers come and go from. By any chance would you know the way?"

The little alien's eyes went big.

He nodded, and Lance let his hope swell a little more.

**-x-**

Keith felt death.

It was a strange sensation, if only in that it did not disturb him the way he would think death felt. Maybe it was because of the crystal inside him or that it was not his own death he felt. The crystal saw the worlds in colorful streaks of life, shadows of death. Though it was less ‘seeing’ and more ‘feeling’. It was very much like the dream Keith felt he was in; he could not articulate the sensations.

But they were there.

The power in him shuddered. The anger within it was not yet quelled, but there was terror eclipsing everything else. Keith didn’t know if it struggled with the concept of mortality (i.e. _Keith’s_ mortality), or was still haunted by Lance.

It clashed with Keith’s mind, his core, his very soul maybe. Keith hungered for the power the crystal had coaxed him closer with. The crystal hungered, in part, to utilize Keith as a moving weapon to let the worlds feel its misery.

They both clung to the ugly, tangled strands of their more bitter feelings. Anger. Isolation. Fear.

Most of all, there was now exhaustion.

Keith wanted to be lulled into sleep at the good thoughts about Lance.

Then Lotor was in front of him again, and he remembered Red’s bite. She was straining herself to keep him afloat, so he would not be wiped out. The crystal was unstable on its own. Keith stayed awake.

He’d been moved somewhere darker. Galra were moving. Life was moving. Keith could almost reach out and identify where they walked, where they stood. But then it would hurt, and he stopped himself. His attention was on one creature anyway.

Lotor smiled thinly.

“Quintessence has it uses, for all the obsession my father has with it,” Lotor said. He wasn’t colored angry anymore, but it spiked at the mentioning of his father. “He uses it on himself, a glutton. There are far better uses for it. Just enough, and I can end the pain you’re in. You’ll be free of its claws in you, and you can submit to me.”

Keith’s eyes flicked to the hand Lotor pressed to the glass. He wanted to break every finger.

“You are a curious thing,” Lotor said. A twisted color rose off him. “I would swear you got Galra tenacity in you. You’ll be worth keeping in my collection.”

The rage roared. Keith seized it and held it deep inside him. It surprised him he even could. The power in him resisted. Keith convulsed and coughed violently. He lifted his head and stared at Lotor.

Lotor smirked. “You remind me of her, in a way.” Soft colors seeped from him as his fingers dragged along the glass. “I saw her. I am proud you did not lie about her.” His smile returned. “Red Paladin.”

Keith let go a piece of the rage. It burned him from his bones, but he welcomed it. The glass trembled hard enough that Lotor jerked his hand back. The surprise washed off, and he smiled, manic.

“It’s alright if you’re angry with me. I understand.” Lotor came closer to the glass. “I know what you must have endured. To expect kindness, and have it wrenched out of you by force. To know the one good thing in your life to be gone. No, taken.”

Keith stared on. He wanted to stop looking at Lotor. The crystal in him hooked itself on Lotor’s words. Or maybe it was Keith doing it. Both?

“You deserve your retribution,” Lotor went on. “To punish those that took advantage of you. They are wretched, greedy things. They wouldn’t let me take you somewhere safe. You know I’ve been trying to free you, don’t you? I always did come to speak to you.”

Keith didn’t want to share those memories, but they rushed at him. He was in the consciousness of the crystal, miserable, and then Lotor’s voice. He couldn’t pick out the words of the memory, but the crystal communicated like Red. Not in words, but everything cushioning them. Tone. Images. Feelings.

Keith felt Lotor’s words coating his own skin, his psyche. He felt comforted, and wanted to throw up at that realization. He screamed inside.

**Don’t listen!**

“I will help you.”

**Liar!**

Keith desperately warded off the words and remembered Lance. Lotor stood behind the protection of the glass, weaving lies in pretty words, but it was Lance that had broken skin and bone to come after him (them). Lance hadn’t stayed protected faraway. He’d traveled a hurricane to touch him.

“Trust me,” Lotor said.

Keith slammed his hand against the glass. A crack spidered down the glass along where Lotor's face hovered.

Lotor jumped back, the colors shooting off him indicating he hadn’t expected the reaction. He hardly looked irritated though. He smirked again.

“You might just thank me yet. Both of you.”

Lotor stepped away, revealing the view.

Keith made himself see. Aliens lined up, their eyes all on him. He could make them out in some details if he tried. He tried so hard.

His gaze latched onto one. Memories tangled with the crystal, but one pierced through upon the recognition. Rodi. The name rung in Keith’s mind. He stared at the older alien, who seemed to notice he was being looked at and offered a terribly sad smile.

Keith might not have been able to understand it, but the crystal read everything else about him. The smile said: “you will be okay.”

The blurred faces returned, clearing up as the crystal fell deeper into its own memories. Aliens smiling at him, proud to serve. But they weren’t serving. They were sacrifices to plump up the crystal, forced into its being along with their own memories.

Keith spiraled in the waves of emotions. What was his or the crystal’s or strange aliens’, he didn’t know. The natives were watching him, and their colors were less terrified for their own well being, and more concerned for his. How they could feel anything but dread for what was going to happen to them was beyond Keith’s current ability to fathom.

They were going to die. Some were already dying. More were going to die.

Keith slammed his hands against the glass again. The sounds that erupted from him were not all human. He bashed his fists even as his knuckles split, until he could pretend the tears trying to come out were from the pain.

There was noise. Galra shouting maybe. Natives crying out. Everything was blurring again.

Keith’s forehead pressed hard against the glass. The crystal surged inside him, wanting release. Keith quivered at the effort not to lose himself.

He thought of his team in between the chaos of his-the-crystal’s mind. He thought of late afternoons on a planet with Hunk showing him the difference between a spice and an herb. Keith didn’t remember the difference, and didn’t care, but he had liked how eager Hunk had looked upon finding them on a planet.

And Pidge showed him new specs on the Green Lion, and had offered to put one or two on Red, but she had not taken kindly to being fiddled with. It had been kind of funny to think about it now.

Coran’s stories. He told so many and Keith tuned out plenty of them. But there were some, he’d listen when Coran’s voice dipped speaking of Alfor, and there had been a lot more to the story than he would ever tell. Keith would never pry. But he thought he knew that tone.

Allura and her strength. For all the resistance Keith could and had given her, he had an unyielding trust in her. Even if he disagreed, he trusted her all the same. And when she would smile at her mice with unrestricted joy, he thought of the kind of peaceful life she had been stripped from upon Zarkon’s tyranny and her father’s death. Keith understood that feeling, in his own way.

Shiro and his guidance. Keith hadn’t thought he could find that willingness to offer a piece of himself again.Though Shiro saw more than Keith gave him, but it was safe with Shiro all the same. Assuring hands on Keith’s shoulders, a fierceness in Shiro that Keith knew still burned in him through the trauma. Keith burned too, and it was like having family again.

They would be coming for him, but there was an army waiting. Keith wanted to protect them. He had tried to force the crystal to yield to him, if only a little. He'd begged, and screamed, and begged. Nothing.

Lance.

Keith sputtered, his heart on fire. He could almost believe he could feel the cool touch of Lance’s energy. Far, yet drawing closer. He wanted it to be true.

Keith inhaled deeply.

_His team._

Exhaled.

_Lance._

Another inhale.

Keith shut his eyes and let himself fall into himself.

_Red._

**-x-**

**He stared up at the darkness.**

**The light looked so alone, a faraway star.**

**Keith reached through the abyss trying to suck him in. He reached far.**

**The crystal hovered from his fingertips.**

**Keith hurt, but still he reached.**

**Then, when he could touch it, he stopped.**

**Slowly, he tilted his hand, not to take, but to offer. He would not take anymore.**

**He kept Red at bay with a mental warning, turned away from her. He opened himself. His memories, the intimacy of his persona flayed wide for the crystal to see and interpret.**

**It hurt so much, the exposure.**

**The abyss sucked him in deeper.**

**He waited.**

**He hoped.**

**And waited more.**

**He couldn’t see the light anymore.**

**And then, the light settled into his palm.**

**-x-**

They didn’t make it on time.

The moon shook beneath their lions. They all saw the wind funnel through the sky like a fist. Then, the smoke bloomed. Lance launched his lion into action first.

It was the same facility Lance and Keith had been brought to briefly. There was little to recognize it by, save for the swarm of troopers fleeing. Galra infested the grounds, unable to turn their weapons on the collapse of the building itself.

Some stumbled to a halt, gaping at the lions. Some fled faster. Others, mostly Galra, adorned their weapons. 

Lance cursed, but he didn’t have to worry of any attack from them or their ships docked nearby. Hunk instantly served himself as a tank before the first shot could hit Lance.

“Hunk!”

“Go get him,” Hunks said. He offered a quick smile in his video feed. “If anyone can drag his reckless butt out of there, it’s you.”

Lance hesitated at that. He wouldn’t waste Hunk’s efforts though, so he gave a nod of his thanks.

“The natives are here too,” Pidge announced. Their feed revealed a string of them hurrying away from a hole far from where the troopers and Galra had emerged from. “I’ll get them to safety.”

“We got you covered,” Coran’s voice came next. He offered a thumbs up, a gesture Lance was proud to have taught him. “But from what we can estimate, that place is coming down fast. Hunk, we might need your help to keep it from toppling. We can divert any attacks in the meanwhile. Not for long.”

Lance didn’t need to be told twice. Blue let him out in a safe spot, flanked by Hunk and what part of the building hadn’t crumbled yet. The Black Lion offered protection too, and Shiro leapt out along with Lance.

They both rushed into the deteriorating building, straight into the heart of the madness.

It was like a diluted version of the temple. The winds howled, throwing up debris and fallen Galra or trooper bodies alike. But it was a howl of the melancholy, and the more Lance strained his hearing, the more like a wail it sounded.

Shiro grabbed his arm and steered him.

**-x-**

Keith watched the building fall and burn.

The crystal watched too. It would be okay to end it all like this.

Keith didn’t want it to end.

The crystal could take the galaxy down with itself.

Keith protected the misery of the crystal inside himself. It didn't have to end like that.

The crystal was not so sure.

They watched a little longer.

**-x-**

Lance saw him first. He gasped, taken aback at the defeated look washed over Keith’s face. It wasn’t a look he’d ever seen. He never wanted to see it again.

Keith’s head was tilted up, gaze fixed on the destruction around him. Blood smeared his hair, crusted his robes, stained his skin. The bright epicenters of his eyes from the crystal were flickering out.

A chunk of something almost caught Lance on his back. Shiro grunted, taking the impact for him. “Shiro!”

Shiro cracked a half-smile and urged them on. The winds buffeted them violently. They had carved a pit for Keith to stand in, and with the piling of building and bodies, it made it impossible to leap in after him.

Nothing would stop Lance from leaving without him.

“Keith!”

Keith’s body twitched. Slowly, as the winds kept circling around him, cutting stone and metal, his head lowered. His eyes landed on Lance.

Lance bit down a cry as the winds this close cut his skin again, hissed in his ear. It made breathing hard. His voice came out almost like sobs. “Keith! Keith, it’s me!”

The recognition did not reach Keith’s gaze.

Lance nearly flew back. Shiro gripped his shoulders and urged him forward, providing the foundation Lance needed to stumble closer.

Within the pit, Keith flinched.

Lance thought about the crystal inside. The way it was also looking at him. He swallowed down his reaction at remembering what had been done to it. Standing above it, Lance saw something confused and frightened. Something hurt.

“You don’t have to be alone,” Lance called through the wind. He could smell smoke. “I know it hurts and it sucks! But you’re not alone, I swear it! Not anymore!”

Lance didn’t know if it was just the crystal he was talking to.

“Never again.”

Lance thrust his hand forward. The urge to just snatch Keith by the collar and drag him out was overwhelming. He forced it down.

“Hunk, Pidge, Shiro. Allura and Coran. There’s Red, Blue, and the others.” He winced as the back of his hand stung from the wind. He kept it out, palm um. The building rumbled. Something to his left disintegrated. “Not just them,” he said, almost breathless now.

Keith’s eyes were wide.

“You’ll always have me.”

Keith’s hand rose. Lance didn’t think it was just Keith moving it.

“Always,” Lance said, and it was true.

Keith’s hand pressed into his palm.

This time, Lance _pulled_.

Like a bubble popped, the entire building groaned and creaked. It clattered and erupted all around them. But Lance held Keith in his arms, fiercely. His muscles screamed at the pull on his muscles as he maneuvered them from the pit.

Shiro hauled them all out. For a heartbeat, Lance could breathe again.

The next heartbeat, Shiro was heaving them telling them they had to hurry.

Lance knew, bitterly, he couldn’t carry Keith in his state. On instinct, he pressed his lips to Keith’s temple before entrusting him to Shiro. Keith resisted, and Lance gave his hand a squeeze.

"I'll be right behind," he promised. Keith let go then, but he peered over Shiro's shoulder to make sure Lance kept his promise as they ran.

Lance held his gaze the entire time.

**-x-**

_I am so tired._

**Keith was tired too. He knew his physical body was falling into unconsciousness.**

_Where are we?_

**Safe.**

_Am I safe?_ **  
**

**Yes. Both of them, right now.**

_It still hurts._

**Keith accepted the crystal's pain. He could hurt enough for them both. Someone was touching his body's face, squeezing his hand.**

_Lance._

**Yes. Keith felt the cool energy trying to reach them. It could only touch the surface, unable to reach the depths of his and the crystal's distress. But they both felt it. It was enough.**

_Safe._

**Keith slept.**

**-X-**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gooosh, thank you for the support. Sorry if the long chapter was too much but I really didn't want to break the flow of these scenes. Also sorry for always taking forever to update + any errors.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. This is the last and longest chapter.  
> Thank you to each of you that kept this story alive!

 

 

**Keith slept curled around the crystal, and together, they dreamt of the long lost king.**

**-x-**

Lance watched Keith sleep.

Every rise of his chest felt like a tiny miracle. Lance collected each one to rebuild his strength and hope as he smoothed his thumb along Keith’s barely speckled cheek. Coran had done his best to clean Keith up, but there was little helping the worst of his injuries. They were internal, or the kind of wounds no remedy, Altean or not, could fix.

But Keith was alive.

Lance wouldn’t let himself be anything less than grateful.

The door to the room hissed open. Lance shot his head up from where it had come to rest on his folded arms. Hunk, not an enemy, branded a sheepish smile and tray with sustenance. Lance relaxed immediately.

“Hey,” Hunk said, coming closer. He eyed where Keith rested on a raised platform that served as his bed. Lance had tried not to think that it was not just a room, but a secured structure that could hopefully withstand any attack Keith might unleash (purposely or not). A prisoner's cell would be another term.

It was the best they could manage, and Lance was one of many who were not willing to put Keith into a deep sleep in the cryopod given his current state.

“Hey. Is everything…?” Lance didn’t know how to word it. Hunk being here meant he wasn’t out there fighting Galra. Though he definitely looked like he hadn’t had a breather since he got back to the castle.

It had been nothing short of a blur getting back into the castle safely with Blue’s help, which meant he hadn’t seen the rest of his team since he’d been put in this room. He was of no help at that time when the Galra tried attacking. There was a small victory in the Galra units' damages from the crystal’s last attack, and their facility was no more a husk left to crumble in on itself. Lotor was furious.

Lance had ridden out the tremors of the castle. Then, it had all come to a stop. An impasse. Lotor must have known by then the crystal was back with Team Voltron. The attacks stopped. That didn’t mean the Galra were leaving.

“We’re safe for now.” Hunk set the tray down and came close with cautious steps. “How, uh, how’s he doing?”

“Okay, I think. He’s been asleep for a while.”

Hunk’s gaze landed on where Lance and Keith’s fingers were entwined.

Lance flushed. “He freaks out in his sleep if I am not touching him.”

“Yeah, man. I get it.” Hunk’s smile was way too soft and embarrassing. Lance looked away. Luckily, Hunk changed the subject. “Here. You need to eat. You’re getting kind of pale." 

Lance must have looked bad enough that Hunk was pushing the whole hand-holding issue.

“I am not pale.” Lance didn’t care he looked like shit, and in a way that bothered him. His delicate looks were always prioritized. The last few hours have shucked him clean of that concern, no doubt rendering him a hot mess. Not wanting to discuss that though, he cleared his throat and said, “How are...things going out there? Is Rodi and the village okay?”

Hunk nodded, but didn't take Lance’s bullshit. He shoved the bowl at Lance’s face. They finally compromised, setting the food on the platform so Lance’s free hand could collect small spoonfuls. Only once he had eaten a little, did Hunk answer.

“They’re managing,” Hunk said. “And the villagers are safe in the castle and are asking for you.”

Lance longed to see them too. He swallowed hard. “How are the others?”

“We’re all back and accounted for. The Galra didn’t have much to fight for once they got word of Keith. Or….the...crystal thing.”

Lance nodded. His appetite surged with each bite. He finished the contents of the bowl before he knew it. “Thanks, Hunk.”

Hunk dragged a seat beside Lance and settled in. Lance hadn’t said anything more, but Hunk leaned close and wrapped a heavily comfortable arm around him. It was a simple gesture, one he’d done plenty of times before. This time, it pulled a wretched sound out of Lance.

As the tremors did what they willed on Lance, Hunk rubbed his shoulder. When Lance sank against him, Hunk supported all of his weight. Lance never let go of Keith’s hand.

Lance found his voice after some stupid sniffling. “I think I got snot on your uniform.”

“Yeah,” Hunk said. “Well, what’s a little Lance-snot. It’s kind of a compliment, actually.”

Lance tried to laugh and ended up coughing. “You know...things sure haven’t been dull since, you know, we became Voltron and all that.”

“I could use dull sometimes.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Hunk.” Lance smiled over. “For all of this...adventure.”

Hunk returned the smile. “I’m not sure I would use the same term but sure. Adventure.” His smile, even at its smallest, felt big to Lance. "Glad you're here too."

"Who else is going to make sure you don't barf into engines?"

Hunk nudged him.

Lance smiled. He took in a deep breath and sat up a little straighter. He studied Keith, made sure his breath kept rising steadily. His thumb swept over Keith’s knuckles. “I can feel him in there. It’s...weird to explain.”

“Is it a bad feeling?”

“No, not at all.”

Hunk looked relieved when Lance spared him a glance. “That's good then. I'm...glad."

"Glad?"

They both shut up and tensed simultaneously when the door opened again. No ambush surprised them, but Lance felt a rush of adrenaline all the same at seeing Shiro step in. He looked about as bad as the others must have, but his shoulders stayed strong and upright.

“Hey,” Shiro greeted, eyes sweeping over them. Lance wondered if Shiro was incapable of not analyzing everything before reacting to it. A soldier’s habit, Lance figured, one made stronger as a means to survive captivity with the Galra.

“We’re okay,” Lance answered for him. “He’s been sleeping. Twitches sometimes but...I mean, he feels...okay.”

None of this was okay. No one corrected him.

Shiro nodded, his gaze drifting from Keith to Lance. Then, he chuckled, and it was the best sound Lance had heard in a long time.

“What?”

“You really are something, Lance.”

“I am pretty awesome.” Lance let the corner of his mouth twitch. He almost sounded like himself.

Shiro’s smile softened, then hardened as he changed the subject. “Lotor set demands.”

“Let me guess.” Lance looked down at Keith.

“You know,” Hunk said, eyes glued to Keith, “normally I’m all about avoiding confrontation, but Lotor can take his demands and shove them.”

"Whoa, Hunk. That's the closest to cursing I've heard from you in a while."

Hunk blushed. "Yeah, well."

“He wants to speak to Allura about his demands,” Shiro said.

“He’s thinking he’s being generous giving us a way out, I’m sure,” Lance said, hard. Keith shifted. He lowered his tone and adjusted himself where sat on. It was sometimes murder on his messed up back muscles, but whatever.

Shiro didn’t blink. “He wants to speak to her privately.”

Lance balked. Not so much at the demand, as what the implication of what Shiro telling them was. “She’s going to do it.”

Shiro’s smile was a little tired, in that way that said he knew no one was changing Allura’s mind. “There’s an army out there and plenty of other villages on the moon. Let alone Laranta, which Pidge estimates is another target once Lotor’s troops reach it.”

Hunk gaped. “That’s crazy! She can’t seriously think this isn’t some...some trap!”

“She feels responsible.”

“The _shit_ she’s responsible for this!” Lance gripped Keith tighter. “Just because her dad came here--”

“Lance.”

Lance stopped at Shiro’s tone. Then, following the older man’s gaze, he noticed Keith’s abnormal eyes staring unblinking at him. Lance shuddered. He heard more than saw Hunk take several steps back.

Slowly, Lance brought his hand up and ghosted his fingers over Keith’s jaw. “Hi,” he said.

Keith didn’t (couldn’t?) speak. Those eyes watched him. Then, his hand, now wrapped in bandages, touched Lance’s jaw.

He felt the sudden rush of air Keith sucked in, and saw his chest rising sporadically. Lance recognized panic in the breathing and the way Keith clutched his face hard. Careful not to make sudden movement, Lance touched the familiar planes of Keith’s cheeks, his forehead, his hands. He minded the parts wrapped in bandages.

“It’s me,” he promised. “I still got you, remember?”

Keith didn’t say anything. His breathing evened out, the panic reduced to an occasional tremor of his body.

Lance swallowed, then exhaled again. Carefully, he eyed Shiro in the corner of his vision. “He woke up a lot earlier than I thought he would,” he said, attention on Keith. He leaned into the touch carefully. His own hand tucked a piece of Keith’s hair back.

Keith’s hand tucked a piece of Lance’s hair back.

Lance paused. After several heartbeats, he touched Keith’s brow.

Keith mimicked the gesture on Lance’s face.

“Is that,” Shiro began, so quietly Lance almost didn’t hear him over his pounding heart.

“I don’t think it’s Keith in charge,” Lance said back in answer. He held Keith’s gaze, wondering how much of Keith was comprehending all this. Some, Lance decided, because it might have been the crystal at the forefront, but the twinkle in Keith’s eyes wasn’t just from its power.

Keith was still watching, beneath it all. Not for much longer. They all knew his body would waste away faster than whatever it was that could make him take control of himself again.

“Hey,” Lance tried again, taking Keith’s hand into his own, drawing it to his lips.

Keith let out a breathy sound, not quite human. He sank into Lance’s embrace.

Hunk let out a long breath at that time. Cautious, he leaned closer to get a better look. His smile looked fond. “You’ve really calmed,” he stopped, thinking of the right term, “them down.”

“I don’t think it was just me.” Lance didn’t quite know what to make of the way the crystal snuggled against him like he was the only good thing in the world. Whatever it was, Lance felt both sad for it and warmed by the affection. “I think Red kept... _is_ keeping Keith from...you know...slipping away.”

Upon Keith’s descent into sleep, Hunk had found Red lying more relaxed than when Coran had originally reported. It had been as good a sign as any to the team.

“You did a lot more than you realize, Lance.” Shiro touched his shoulder, gradually, as if unsure the gesture might spook Keith. “A lot more.”

“Thanks.” Lance wasn’t entirely sure. He stared down at Keith-the-crystal. 

“I...don’t know what to do. I don’t know what we can do to make this right.” Lance hated how pitiful it fell past his lips. Holding Keith in his arms, and yet knowing he was a reality away left a sinking feeling in Lance’s gut. They had Keith, but who would know what to do to get him back?

Before Shiro could answer, Keith’s hand touched his face again. Lance hadn’t felt a tear slip past, but now it was scooped onto a finger. Those strange eyes studied him. Lance let out a weak laugh.

“You feeling sorry for me?”

Keith blinked slowly. He kept his hand on Lance’s face.

“At least it’s...not trying to kill everything,” Hunk said, in a whisper.

Lance wasn’t sure the crystal still didn’t want to.

He refused to sound more pathetic. He pinched his lips tightly together and pressed his forehead to Keith’s. The hand slipped from his cheek, rested on his shoulder. Then, it smoothed over his tunic, the tips of his fingers bare from the bandages and able to feel the texture of it.

Lance leaned back, observing the curious behavior with rapt attention. The sick feeling in him didn’t ebb, but there was something hopeful in the way Keith touched him. Explored him.

Keith suddenly acknowledged Shiro.

Their leader tensed, keeping still as Keith rose with unusual grace from Lance’s lap. He stepped forward on slippered feet, and then stopped, as if dazed. Keith looked back to Lance.

Lance blinked a few times out of his stupor before he understood. In an instant, he threw away feeling shitty about everything and leapt up, cupping his hand into Keith’s. Immediately, the crystal within Keith relaxed and finished approaching Shiro.

There was a terrifying moment where Lance had no clue what would happen. Keith could rip Shiro’s skin off with a terrible wind if he wanted to.

The crystal had wanted to cause destruction, but now, Lance thought it didn’t know what it wanted.

Keith reached up and touched Shiro’s cheek.

Shiro’s shoulders tightened more, and then, as no attack came, they eased up. He even smiled gently down at those bright eyes. “Hello,” Shiro said. “Do you remember me?”

Keith dropped his hand and stepped back into Lance’s side, watching Shiro.

“I think it knows you,” Lance said.

“Knows?”

“Like it knows that Keith knows you. I don’t know how else to word it.”

Keith drifted toward Hunk now. Touched him, and in another lifetime it would have been funny how Hunk grappled with what to do with his hands. He looked torn between wanting to give Keith a big hug and keep his hands at his side.

As if not to spook an animal, Hunk touched the back of Keith’s hand periodically, as a kind of assurance. The crystal seemed especially focused on Hunk’s eyes. Lance thought it was because of the kindness Hunk’s expression could hold. Something that was long since barren for the crystal.

“It’s lonely,” Hunk said.

None of them had to confirm that. Lance knew it was a lot more than just lonely. Allura hadn’t been wrong. There was damage, far out of reach for repairs.

Keith’s hands lowered, the panic returning. Lance seized both hands into his own and drew Keith’s body closer. It might have been a dumb tactic, narrowing the crystal’s world down to Lance and nothing else.

It worked well enough.

Keith was breathing normally again. Then, Keith’s entire body turned, locating the door.

He took off into the corridor.

Lance, hooked at the hand with him, was dragged along with a string of weak protests. Multiple times, they both stumbled, bodies weak and aching. Lance handled them both back to their feet and let Keith go to whatever was pulling him. He gave a look to Shiro and Hunk not to stop them.

They spilled into the main control room. Lance wondered if the crystal had been able to pinpoint Pidge’s general location and hunted them down. It couldn’t have just been the crystal wanting to see Pidge accounted for.

In the room, Coran and Pidge were there. Allura was not.

Pidge bolted up. They still wore their uniforms, dusted and dirty from their recent battles. Lance felt a solidarity in how crappy they all looked and must have felt. Coran stood from the center of the control panel, tense from feet to his mustache.

“Holy crow,” Pidge blurted, eyes narrowing.From behind Lance, he heard Shiro and Coran catch up. Thankfully they didn’t interfere with the tenuous reunion. “He’s still alive.”

“Thanks for noticing, Pidge,” Lance said.

Pidge frowned at him, eyes bouncing back over to Keith. “You look less worse, Lance.”

Lance figured he did feel less worse. He fingered Keith’s hand, realizing as an afterthought he didn’t have any energy to care that anyone could pointedly stare at their joined hands.

“Wish I could say the same thing about you guys.”

That popped the tension. Lance smiled at them, then gestured for Keith. “Remember them? Pidge and that’s Coran.”

Keith made a beeline toward Pidge, who looked ready to bolt. “Uh,” Pidge backed up, “what’s he doing?”

“You get use to it fast,” Hunk offered. That softened Pidge up enough to let Keith lean down and examine him, pass fingertips over the tuffs of their hair.

Pidge blinked up. Keith blinked back the same amount of times.

“Can it understand?” Pidge asked.

“Not the same way you and I do,” Lance said, feeling good about the way Keith tentatively let himself be drawn to the other teammates. “I think it wants to know you guys.”

When it wasn’t on the cusp of breaking down, anyway. Lance had no clue what sacrifice Keith was making to maintain control over whatever part of the crystal that made it violent mere hours ago. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good, so Lance gave all he could in assuaging the crystal’s distress when he saw the signs perk up again.

Nevermind this was an ancient creature with vast powers. Right now, it gazed upon the humans in this room with fascination, and a wonder that reminded Lance of his little siblings. He convinced himself they were safe as long as he was still out here. There was a village, whole worlds, with little ones that were not safe that needed his protection still.

Keith was gawking at Pidge's outstretched hand, offered for a shake.

“Uh,” Lance gently said, “we can work on that.”

He watched the behavior unfold. The crystal inside of Keith gazed at them all as if remembering who they were. Maybe not the same way Keith would. Still, there was recognition in his movements and a simultaneous perplexion at their connection with Keith. The bonds, the friendship. Things this crystal had been robbed of.

“Is Keith hearing and seeing all this too?” Pidge asked, smiling that little smile when Keith ogled their glasses. Pidge didn’t seem as spooked by Hunk, but held themselves with cautious wariness when Keith touched a strand of their hair again.

“I think so. I can feel him.”

“You can feel Keith?” Coran parroted.

Lance felt a blush working up. He figured that a good sign that things weren’t feeling too weird around here, ancient crystal power and all in the castle.

“Of course.” Coran snapped his fingers, coming closer though he kept a respectable distance. He gaze at Keith with a kind of gentleness. “You all can feel one another when you are in battle together. The effect can carry over off the field.”

“That energy that was in the temple, I can track it inside of him,” Pidge said, pointing. “Lance is just capable of telling it apart from Keith’s….energy,” they finished with a flick, as if not satisfied using that word but finding no better alternative now.

Lance didn’t want to go into the logistics of that.

He remembered something more important. He looked at Coran. “Allura…”

Coran’s shoulders deflated. “Yes.” He peered at Keith, then turned his attention to the live feed of the screen. “She thought it best to go down sooner than later.”

Before Lance or Hunk could throw a fit about it, most likely. Lance felt his chest prickling with anticipation as he searched the broken battleground of of the moon. The color of the moon was being sucked paler, its face cratered by the damage of the recent fight.

“This is a bad idea,” Lance said.

“There was something in there,” Coran said. “In that building. We saw them lifting it out. I believe it was all the convincing Allura needed to go speak to Lotor.”

“Lifted?” Lance asked.

He didn’t receive a response, for that was when Keith addressed the screen projecting the live feed. Allura, the monarch, and Marik began their descent out of the castle.

Keith unleashed a heart-wrenching sound.

The noise strangled on itself, as if an old pain had been flayed raw again. Lance’s gaze darted between the screen and Keith, who reached out desperately. A breeze played with the ends of his sleeve.

Lance snatched Keith’s wrist before the wind would rip out from the crystal and dissect the castle. Keith cried out again, squirming in his grip as it tried to reach for the screen. The video focused on Allura, and Keith wailed harder.

“I know, I know,” Lance said, all he could say, and no, he couldn’t _really_ know. But he could hold them close, and pour his sincerity in the way he cradled the struggling form in his arms.

Keith didn’t try to burn the place down, but he cried out harder, as if trying to tell Lance everything in that sound.

Lance pressed his lips to Keith’s temple, and whispered into his ear. Later, he would be thankful to Shiro for knowing to keep the others at bay.

They could only watch Allura negotiate this world’s fate, and wait for her return.

**-x-**

_The king did not leave me._

Keith stared at Allura. Remembered her.

_The king lives._

Keith knew he was trembling. Lance held him tightly.

_The king is with her._

She held his gaze, her lips tight. Keith’s hand reached out. She inhaled sharply, the colors of her aura so strong, so bright, so familiar.

_I am not a great thing anymore._

Keith felt tears spill, so hot they burned.

Allura rushed at him, and in that moment, he was sure the entire universe was bathed in her colors.

**-x-**

Lance had finally let Keith go.

He stood the closest by, his throat clogged at the sounds that blubbered out of Keith. He wanted to think none of the wails were from Keith’s heart, but he knew that wasn’t true. He clenched his fists instead and bit on his tongue.

They’d all watched as Alllura and Lotor spoke on the middle ground that was Laranta’s moon. No sneak attack had been made, and they had not been given permission to listen into the conversation. Lance didn’t need to hear to get the gist of things.

Allura and Lotor had history, and it was another story to be told. Though, Lance didn’t know if any of them had the right to that story, or ever will. Even Coran had said as much to Lance before.

It had been Allura to end the talks, turning away with what Lance thought was a painful expression. Lotor’s face had contorted, and he too had turned, storming back into his ship. Lance waited for an attack. It hadn’t come. Yet.

Upon her return, it was like the negotiations hadn’t existed. Her eyes had locked onto Keith, and the room fell into an intense silence.

Lance held his breath the entire time, until, Allura marched forward.

Keith had collapsed into her arms.

Now, her fingers threaded through Keith’s with a gentleness Lance had never seen her do this close up. Her hand rubbed circles on Keith’s back, and she let him cry. A breeze swept by occasionally. Allura would tighten her arms around Keith, and the threat quieted down.

It felt a lifetime before she leaned back and took Keith’s face into her hands. Despite Lotor’s threats on her heels, and the exhaustion that had to be pulling at her body, she stared down with a fondness that even put Lance at ease.

Her thumbs swept away the remnants of the tears.

“I am sorry I took so long,” she said. “My father would have never let you be hurt.”

Keith’s eyes widened. Lance realized she was saying far more than what they could hear. Alteans were a curious species, and Allura exceeded expectations of wonders. Whether it was because of her duty as a princess or something greater, Lance didn’t know.

He wished he had it now, if only to peek into Keith’s mind and talk to him directly.

“Leave us,” Allura said.

Lance almost didn’t. Hunk’s touch on his arm, Shiro’s grip on his shoulder, and a final tug from Pidge got him to turn away and step out. Only Coran remained within the room.

Outside, the monarch and Marik stook, the latter with his arm in a brace. He looked ghastly, his mane less a force to be reckon with.

“It’s...that is…”

“Yes,” Pidge snapped. “No thanks to you.”

“Pidge.” Shiro lowered his hand from Lance’s shoulder. “You hadn’t been ordered to go down with the princess to face Lotor. You didn’t need to go.”

“Yes, we did,” the monarch said. “These are my people, my planet and moon. And in there, is the power I allowed to be abused. We’ve damaged it.”

Lance wanted to be angry. He was so tired. “It started long before you,” he said, not sure why he was offering her a piece of relief.

She noted him, her eyes widening for a fraction. The last few days had been rough on her to lower her defenses so well. “I did not do anything to stop it. Marik attempted to give me counsel, and I let my fear and ignorance convince me I was doing right.”

“Lotor had demanded none of you come with her. He had not said anything about us,” Marik said. “Though she is...remarkable. She could withstand an army alone, it felt like.”

Shiro didn’t ask them what was discussed. They knew they would not tell.

“I am deeply sorry,” the monarch said. She lowered her gaze. “For so much. And yet you still help us.”

“Hearts can change,” Shiro said, fixing his words on Marik. “There are good creatures here. This galaxy does not deserve to be wiped out. You can lead your people through a better perspective now. We won’t abandon you.”

Marik didn’t look convinced, but he said nothing. His ears flattened, gaze lowering similarly to the monarch.

“Keith wouldn’t abandon you,” Lance said.

That had Marik’s ears perk up again. He tentatively searched Lance’s face.

“Sure, he totally talked about taking this power if it meant stopping the Galra, but he’s just all talk. Thinks it’s cool, you know?”

“Cool?”

“Makes him look like a hotshot.” Lance cleared his throat, feeling it strain. He refused to acknowledge it was because there was still that fear growing like mold in his mind that Keith wouldn’t get to be a hotshot anymore.

Marik smiled a fanged, small smile at that. “You are...remarkable as well, Warrior Lance.”

Lance blinked twice.

“We were cruel to the natives of our moon, allowing Lotor to do as he wished them as part of our contract,” Marik said, peeking at the monarch as if he still hesitated to overstep his boundaries. She did not stop him. “When we came to see them earlier, they offered nothing but kindness to us.”

“Rodi’s people are good,” Lance said. “I hope you remember that kindness.”

Marik nodded. Lance nodded back. He felt like the taut bitterness he’d held around his former guide’s neck loosened.

The panel behind them opened. Coran nodded to Team Voltron, before escorting the monarch and Marik deeper into the castle.

Lance was first to hurry in, finding Allura and Keith in the same position they’d left them in.

He stayed quiet, unsure.

“I am sorry you were alone so long,” Allura said after a stretch of time. “But no longer.”

Lance flinched when her gaze swept to him. Beckoned by the look alone, Lance came to her side, crouching to their level. Keith, as if able to sense his energy, blindly reached out. Lance laced their fingers together. Something about the contact had Allura shut her eyes in a moment of peace.

When she opened them, she stood, drawing Lance and Keith up with her. “Lotor will not have the crystal.”

She stroked Keith’s cheeks again, then withdrew. There was longing in those bright eyes. Lance squeezed their fingers together, a meek offering he thought by comparison.

“Were you...talking to it?” Hunk ventured first.

Allura scanned the room, eyes landing on each of them. “The way I can communicate with your lions. Feel them, I should say.”

“Then does that mean you know what it is?” Pidge asked. They had stood the farthest, and now crept closer.

Allura lowered her gaze. When she peered back at Keith, he straightened. “An old power. Far older than Alteans had been around. Creatures that have the rare power, the kind of power one can’t replicate.”

“The kind of power that King Alfor put into the lions.”

“The history of the lions is for another, later time,” Allura said.

Her tone allowed for no disputes. Lance swallowed and straightened, Keith gripping his arm with new ferocity. His head was bowed ever since Allura released him.

Allura stepped to the center of the platform. “Lotor is signaling us.”

“Is he going to attack?” Hunk asked, sounding like he’d been holding his breath the entire time.

Pidge was already scowling at the spot Lotor’s face would be broadcasted. “We’re about to find out.”

Lance angled his body so that Keith would not see Lotor’s face stretch up on the screen.

“Princess,” Lotor said. His gaze raked over her, then stretched to the others. It hung precariously on Lance and the figure in his arms. “That doesn’t belong to you.”

“Nor you,” Allura said.

“Years of work were put into cultivating. I’ve explained this to you.”

“Then stop wasting your breath retelling it.”

Lotor bristled. “I allowed you time to reconsider my terms.”

“I’ve considered them.”

Lotor, ridiculously, looked hopeful. His eyes light up, his attention rapt by Allura. “And?” he pressed.

“No.”

A bitter look twisted Lotor’s features into something mean.“Why can’t you understand I am doing this for the good of the universe? For _us_?”

“This was never about us, Lotor. I was gone for thousands of years.”

“I did not lose hope,” Lotor breathed. Then, harder, his words came out in spats. “ _I_ unified where my father could not. _I_ slaved away to reach the level of command I have now, _I_ have done more than any other creature in power has ever dreamed to accomplish. I did this. Not my father.”

Allura’s expression fell slowly. “You’ve done more than you thought you’d ever do.”

“You told me I had greatness in me, all those years ago. I believed you.” Lotor leaned forward. Suddenly, it was as if the world was narrowed down to him and Allura. “It was the first act of kindness anyone had ever showed me.”

Allura took in a deep breath. Her eyes shut briefly. “You are not the child I knew from then.”

Slowly, ever so painfully, Lotor’s hope withered. His eyes glazed, the coldness in them chilling all in the room. “Is that so.”

Though it was not a question, Allura said, “Yes.”

“I will not leave without that power, Princess.”

Allura’s back remained straight. “I have already given you my answer, and advised against your pursuits. I implore you once more, please do not do this, Lotor. ”

The prince flinched, like hearing Allura say his name could shrink him back down to a child.

“If I cannot have it, then neither will you.”

“Lotor-”

“Consider Laranta and its moon forfeit.”

The signal severed, and Lotor’s face was gone. Lance felt the air rush back into the room. In part, he realized, was that a breeze filtered through, playing with the tuffs of Keith’s hair. There was no malice in the tickle of power radiating off Keith. His gaze rested on Allura.

She braced herself against the control panel, head bowed, body tense. They all fell into a weighted silence. Lance couldn’t fathom what went on in her head or her heart at seeing a familiar face, twisted as it was belonging to Lotor.

Just as he thought of something to say to her, she straightened and looked at each of them. Not a hint of her momentary distress was visible in either her eyes or posture.

“Well, don't just stand there gawking. Suit up! We’ve a mission to finish.”

**-x-**

The lions gazed down at Keith. Only Red stayed lying down, her energy reserved for keeping him afloat. She would stay that way, stubborn, until she saw it fit to do anything else.

Allura had guided him here, Lance keeping a respectful distance away. She’d left him, and Keith was pushed to the forefront of his mind as the crystal reached out to the lions.

Keith let his mind and heart open, the raw intimacy of the gesture hurting and shameful. It revealed the crystal, and he did not intrude on the images and sensations that the lions passed down onto the crystal.

Still, he felt it.

The what-could-have-been. The crystal trembled, its hopeful future bleak in its heart. Lance was there, behind him, touching him, then holding him when the tremors rocked into Keith’s body. The crystal calmed down. It fell so quiet Keith could almost hear his own heartbeat again.

It was buried deep inside Keith’s psyche, dormant like it had been when Lotor captured them. It was considering things, or preparing for what was to come. Both, maybe. Keith could not intrude on its thoughts now, desperate to cling to reality a little longer before he was buried back into the void.

When he could turn away, he found Lance waiting by the closed hanger door.

Lance straightened at the way Keith approached him.

“Keith?” he asked.

**Yes.**

Lance could not hear, and Keith could not quite speak. He reached out. Lance met him halfway, pulled him closer with a grip that was borderline painful. Desperate.

Keith watched Lance, felt his hands against his skin.

_Safe._

Keith remembered Allura, felt her in his mind, in his heart.

“It sucks being scared,” Lance was saying. “Not that I am. Scared, that is.”

_Fear._

Keith saw the twisted colors of Lance’s fear. They were far paler than the cool waves that told Keith he was home. That he had a home.

 _Pain_.

Keith pulled Lance’s energy over himself and the crystal. There was much to do still. Gently, he pushed his mind forward, allowing him access to his body more fully.

Lance’s eyes went big as Keith cupped his face, touched their foreheads.

“Keith.”

 _Love_.

Keith orchestrated his body wearily, drawing Lance’s face closer. Just once more. He felt the crystal stir, but it did not stop him.

Lance sank into the chaste kiss.

The crystal’s consciousness spiked.

Lance pressed his lips more firmly against his.

Keith might have smiled.

The crystal came to wakefulness. Mentally, he pulled back, where Red waited for him.

**-x-**

Lance hung his trust on his team. It did something painful to his heart not to be with Keith when they were called to battle. He couldn’t argue the point. With Red out of the fight, they needed him to arms while Allura planned whatever the hell she had planned to stop Lotor and his fleet.

He trusted Keith to stay himself. He trusted Red to protect him.

He’d all but barrelled into Blue when the Galra initiated their attack. Some of the fleet was making rounds toward Laranta, and the rest were preparing a full onslaught on the moon. Resources be damned, Lotor was going to repeat what Zarkan had done to Altea on a grander level.

He would wipe out an entire galaxy.

“Lance, we need you to stop as many Galra ships as you can,” Shiro ordered, voice strong and comforting through their connection. “The less they are moving, the better.”

“I really hope you know what is going to happen, Allura,” Hunk said. “We’re kind of going in blind.”

“I understand your trepidation,” Allura said. Her face creased on their respective windows. “But this is the only shot we’ll have to stop them at once.”

“With the crystal, you mean,” Lance said. He wasn’t dumb. He knew instantly when Keith was navigated into Pidge’s lion that Allura had devised some plan. They all did, but that didn’t make any of this feel like a sure way to win.

“Without Voltron, we’re limited,” Allura said. “But Voltron alone is not what you are. You all make something far greater. I think I understand that better now.”

Lance wished he could say the same. But he had faith in his team and it grounded him when nothing else would.

“Is it really going to help us?” Hunk asked. “It wanted to blow up the planet not that long ago. I mean, not that they were wrong to feel that way…”

“I trust us. I trust your lions. That is enough,” Allura said.

Lance considered that, taking in the sight of Galra ships growing larger in view. He reached out to Blue. There was assurance in her. Somehow, he knew the others were doing the same. They had no protests.

“And Pidge?” Shiro asked.

“Getting into position,” Pidge said. “I’m pretty sure the Galra will be able to detect the energy of the crystal soon, even with my cloaking.”

“The rest of us will be buying you time,” Shiro said.

Lance stole a glance at all his teammates’ faces in the windows of Blue’s screens. He stopped on Pidge’s, seeing Keith standing behind the cockpit. Those strange eyes fixed on his.

Lance smiled. “Take care of him, Pidge.”

“And you all take care of each other. And watch my back.”

Their screens turned off. Lance inhaled deep. The Galra were fast approaching. Blue rumbled in that way where she was ready to pounce.

“Okay,” Lance said. “Here’s to one last fight for Laranta.”

Blue dove into the Galra.

**-x-**

“Okay, okay, we can do this.” They said other things. Fingers fidgeting. Taking glances at Keith. "I trust you're not going to go rampaging inside my lion, okay? That's a lot of trust. What am I rambling about, not like you can talk back. I hope it's not like...painful. But it is fascinating, the co-existence in one body."

_Curious._

Clouds billowed by. High into the sky. Higher, higher. The faces of their team out of sight.

“You can, uh, like, sort of understand me, right?”

Keith stared down. Big, inquisitive eyes.

 _Fearless_.

The human blinked at him. “Uh, that is, Lance said that Keith was like, buried again deeper than...you are. The crystal, I mean. But you’re both there.”

Keith watched the clouds.

“Well...anyway, Lance being able to sense that. It’s impressive. The bond stuff isn’t just limited to our lions, is it? Not that you can answer that. I might be talking a lot. I do that when I’m stressed. Not that...you stress me out. I don’t think you’ll blow me up.”

Keith touched a shoulder.

A little jolt. The human looked back.

_Pidge._

“Lance asked me to take care of you,” Pidge said. “But really, he’s the hopeless one sometimes. I would know, being stuck as part of his team back at the Garrison.”

Silence.

Close now. They were higher up than ever.

A deep breath.

“So...be careful, okay? Whatever happens, well...yeah. Happens, I guess. Jesus, this is crazy. I'm just going to let you jump out and hope for the best.”

Keith looked down again. His hand lingered, then dropped away.

The hanger opened.

He watched Pidge as he stepped backward.

A little smile from them. Then, “I can’t take care of the idiot by myself, after all so you better come back.”

Keith’s lip twitched.

Wind whipped up from outside, wrapped around his limbs.

He took the plummet down.

**-x-**

Time went by too fast and too slow during a battle.

It was never like the simulators, which staged small assaults on students as a means to prepare for rogue attacks. The Garrison had little as a means to fight a fleet of violent alien fleets, let alone prepare their students for it.

Lance could think it had been hours as much as he could believe mere ticks had rushed by. He relied on instinct, both his and Blue’s, as the universe narrowed down to the task in front of him. His instincts might not have been as good as Keith’s, but it was all they had right now.

He grunted as Blue took a hit to her back leg, spiraling them out of range. She crashed into a grove of trees.

“Lance!”

“I’m fine, Shiro, I’m fine.” Lance got Blue back up and angled her head up. In a blast, she froze the small ship that had tried to take her leg off. “But we’re not going to stay fine at this rate. They’re trying to pick us apart from each other.”

“Then we do the same,” Pidge said, their voice preceding Green coming into view. It swerved under a ship attacking Hunk. Roots suddenly ripped through the crevices of the ship, uncoiling and dragging the ship to a crash landing.

“Pidge!” Lance smiled, though his heart sank. “And Keith?”

“I think we just need to buy time,” Pidge said. “He jumped out.”

“What do you mean he _jumped out_?”

“He...it,” Pidge huffed, “ _them_ , whatever, jumped out. They're going to do something."

Hunk all but yelled, "How do you know that?"

"Just trust him, okay?" Pidge snapped back.

Blue leapt back up toward her comrades, though Lance was tempted to turn her toward the direction Pidge had come from. Keith-the-crystal was going to do _something_. It wasn’t awe-inspiring. It was also all they had.

“Then we keep them off the moon and buy time,” Shiro said. “Get into formation. Pidge is right. We pick them apart before they do us.”

“They have way more forces than we do,” Hunk said. “Allura and Coran have their hands full with the ships that get past us.”

“Guys?”

Their attention turned at Pidge’s tone. A shuddering of light disrupted the Galra forces coming for them. It took Lance half a breath to recognize it as an attack, but it hadn’t come from their group.

“Keith?” he asked, only it wasn’t Keith, he realized. Blue’s targeting system zoomed in and picked out the much smaller, but faster ships, that barreled through the opening the attack had made.

Shiro opened up their public communication system, and they all heard the whoops and howls.

Lance narrowed his eyes at the ships. He remembered the sleek design of the ships that had shot him and Keith down, having mistaken the attack as Galra. It had seem the logical conclusion at the time, and only now he saw how different they were.

“They’re mercs,” Lance said.

“They go where the money is,” Hunk said.

And it wasn’t falling from Zarkon’s greasy palm anymore, and sure as hell not from Lotor's. At least Lance would bet on it if he had any currency on him. Considering

Then, beyond the hole the mercs made in the Galra’s formation, a new one emerged. The ships Lance recalled seeing docked and mostly untouched by frequent flights. White and gold designs, flashy things that looked meant for the skies, but not much else.

“Laranta’s fleet,” Shiro said. There was a lightness in his voice that made Lance smile too.

Lance glanced back toward the moon as if he could see the monarch and Marik in the castle. He could only assume it had been their work to inspire action from their people. Action after a crippling loss under the Galra, both in terms of city damage and morale.

But there they were, whatever ships able to soar coming to aid.

As if on cue, Marik’s face appeared on a screen.

“I had concerns they would not show,” Marik said in greeting.

“No one could blame them,” Lance said, feeling Marik’s attention was more on him than the others.

“We should have taken action long before this.”

Lance’s gust twisted. “You all would have died then.”

“Yes, but-”

“ _And_ you never would have gotten to meet us.”

Marik’s ears went up. He gave a weak smile, and Lance thought it was all kinds of grateful. “It would have been a shame to have never met such a warrior such as yourself.”

Lance let himself preen. At the same time, Pidge and Hunk burst into laughter that killed the moment. Marik, oblivious to their amusement, blinked at them.

“It might be too late now,” Marik said.

Lance gave him a hard look, willing Marik to hold it. The large alien did not avert his gaze. Lance nodded once.

Lance figured out that courage didn’t mean plowing into danger without fear. It was plowing into danger even when you were scared shitless. He saw it in the way Laranta’s people came to arms. He saw it in Marik’s eyes, how petrified the alien was under all his sorrow for what had transpired. He felt it in the weird bond he shared with Keith still, distant and yet right in the core of his person.

“Never,” Lance told him. 

**-x-**

Keith fell.

He felt himself on the edge of the void and his consciousness. He could feel the wind buffeting his descent as the crystal nestled into his heart again, bracing itself. Life was peaceful in that fall, hundreds and hundreds of feet from the moon’s surface. A barrier of self-created wind protected him along his descent.

Light exploded in the distance. Battle. For an instant though, he could pretend there was nothing but this quiet peace. It's what they needed, the rush of the air surrounding them, the beautiful quiet of the skies, far from the destruction littered far below them.

The crystal swelled inside him, like a deep breath.

Keith inhaled sharply.

_Pain._

Keith tried to wrap his emotions around the crystal as he had done before. It rejected him this time. It stung open and exposed in the crevice of his heart it existed in. It was a strange paradox of a feeling.

_Gratitude._

Keith’s pressed his hands to his chest. The protective barrier of the crystal’s power allowed his movements to come freely. It felt like he floated, not fell.

Keith felt tears rising. He had stopped crying since he was a kid. What could he say to this wretched, broken thing? He wasn’t hopeful the way Lance was. He wasn’t intelligent like Pidge, or compassionate like Hunk. He didn’t have Shiro’s guidance nor Coran’s wisdom or Allura’s strength.

The crystal’s power began to surge, peeling away from like like barbed wires tearing out of his bone and soul. Keith screamed.

Then he saw it.

In the void where he still suspended from, a white lioness manifesting in his psyche. He knew it was for his own benefit, this familiar form conjured up by exposure to Red’s presence in the void and whatever had transpired back with the other lions in the hanger.

It stared at him.

The link severed, leaving him gaping open and raw.

Still, he reached out and touched the muzzle of the manifestation, brilliantly white and beautiful. He swore he could pretend it was all real, the fur soft beneath his palm.

Keith knew what it intended to do now. He collapsed against it and hugged it fiercely.

There was only one thing Keith could think to say.

**Thank you.**

**-x-**

Lance spat out a string of curses that would turn his mom red with fury. Even billions of alien-distance away from her, he felt the shame at swearing like that, even if it felt warranted. He was sporting new bruises from being jostled around, Blue taking a chunk of damage that had one of her warning systems blaring red in Lance’s peripheral.

Hunk knocked him clear out of another attack, earning him another bruise. Least it was friendly fire.

“Thanks, Hunk,” Lance called, grunting as he took in the sight. Plenty of ships with damage from Blue’s freezing canon. Still so many of them. It was taking everything to keep the worst of the attacks from striking the moon.

There was little helping the fleet already on its course to Laranta.

“We can’t keep doing this,” Hunk said, listing off all sorts of engineering disasters awaiting them if they kept playing offense so hard.

“I know, but we can’t let them pass this point,” Shiro reminded them. “Just a little longer.”

Lance didn’t point out that ‘little longer’ was entirely subjective at this point. Hunk was the best equipped to endure the onslaught longer than the rest. For all the help the mercenaries and Laranta’s fleet provided, the Galra were bred for violence.

Lance knew adrenaline kept him from succumbing to his injuries and exhaustion. Blue gnawed gently at his mind now, her concern evident in the way she took over on the defense if it meant preventing Lance from getting a new bruise.

When Pidge shouted a warning of a ship passing their line of defense, Blue didn’t protest Lance’s instinct. They charged for the ship, freezing it, but not before absorbing the blast that would have struck the moon.

Warnings blared red around Lance. His eyes fluttered opened and he was hanging halfway in the cockpit, hearing his teammates yelling.

Had he passed out for a moment?

He blinked, and felt blood trickling past his eyelids. He wanted to tell his friends he was okay, but it hurt to move his jaw.

Blue was in bad shape. He got her upright from where she had crash-landed back onto the moon.

Fight. Had to keep fighting. He wasn’t dead, so he could keep fighting.

“Come on,” he rasped. “We have to get back up there, girl. We have to…”

Then, as if answering a prayer he had not voiced, he felt it. Light speared through the skies, one blast of it blinding Lance temporarily in a wink. He cringed, mistaking it for an attack until a surge of power rushed into Blue. She bursted into a roar of energy.

“Whoa!” Hunk’s voice came in quieter than his shouting, finally. “What the heck just happened?”

“I don’t know,” Shiro said. “Lance?”

“Yeah,” Lance croaked out. “I’m...I’m here. I felt it too. Or...Blue felt it.”

“Whatever it is, I’m not wasting it,” Pidge said.

Lance agreed, and with a renewal of his own power, guided Blue back into the air. He jerked her to a mid-halt when he made out the rest of the light tearing through the air, a howl chasing them. The wind was unwinding wildly around them, extending higher and higher, right for the Galra.

Ships were swept into the eye of torrent storms, the winds peeling layers of alien technology to shreds like tissue under a child’s fingertips. The battle was mere heartbeats from being over. They could all hear Lotor's rage ripple over the losing battle. Slimy coward that he was, his ship was the first to retreat, engines smoking in its wake, along with his threats.

Lance whirled Blue around toward the source of where the power had erupted from. Somehow, he knew the answer before the targeting system zeroed in.

Keith’s prone body was plummeting, lifeless.

“Keith!”

Lance’s heart skyrocketed. He propelled Blue forward on instinct, knowing he’d never make it in time.

A streak of red. Lance stared at the screen as Red came into view, her form bounding through the sky, right for Keith.

She’d make it.

Using the temporary gift of extra power, Lance launched Blue toward Keith.

The battle was over.

Lance and the rest saw Lotor’s ship bid its retreat with what pitiful scraps remained of his troops. His threats still echoed in Lance’s mind. This wasn’t the last they would deal with him. But he was gone, and Laranta’s galaxy was stripped of his influence.

It was enough for now.

Lance landed Blue first among the group, relief returning to him. He relied on Red’s obsessive concern over Keith right now, and given that she wasn’t wreaking havoc or diving for the castle had to mean something good. She stood calmly beneath a canopy of bulky trees. Lance landed Blue a respectable distance away.

Red’s head was tilted down when he spotted her. He all but fell out of Blue before she fully opened herself up to the jungle. From Red’s open hanger, Keith stood on unsteady legs, the breeze a threat to topple him over. Lance dashed forward on unsteady legs, skidding to a pause as he took in the sight of Keith alive.

“Keith,” he breathed. "Keith?"

Keith’s gaze was vacant, but his eyes were his own. In front of his chest, his hands cradled a weak light. It pulsed like a heartbeat.

Keith took a step forward. His knee buckled.

Lance rushed forward and caught him by the arms. “Hey, hey, I got you. Shit, you're alive. Can you...?”

Keith’s breath was so weak. His voice came out weaker, ragged and tiny. “I...can’t...I have...the spring…”

Lance made sense of the broken syllables. He peeked into Keith’s hand, and saw the crystal. Lance understood. It was feeding off Keith in its last moments, its breath solely reliant on Keith’s.

Why Keith had the desperate need to go to the spring beyond the cave, he had the faintest idea.

Lance swallowed. Carefully, he wrapped one arm around Keith, hoisting him up. Then, he cupped his hand over Keith’s. It was like a cold wind shot through his veins. He calmed the initial panic, and let the crystal feed off him.

“Come on.”

They stumbled, Keith’s body wrecked and becoming more dead weight.

Lance’s heartbeat was loud in his ear. He was sure it was in tune with Keith’s. Or rather, his heartbeat was probably making Keith match his rhythm, keeping the Red Paladin from blacking out. Under it all, he couldn’t hear the others approaching them.

But he saw them, and it took only one look for them to grow silent.

Hunk braced himself visibly, and was the first to move.

He took Keith’s weight from the other side. His much larger, available hand easily hugged around Keith’s.

Pidge’s hand pressed into the back of Lance’s. Shiro’s came at the center. Lance locked eyes with each of them, unsure when he'd gotten lucky to have them all as his team. He nodded, and they took the cue to help Keith forward again.

In the end, they made a for a ridiculous looking group, waddling together, patient when Keith’s legs gave out from under him. Lance might have laughed any other time. But they waited each time, knowing Keith would force through the pain and sink into their touch.

Lance couldn’t remember when there were others trailing behind them. The castle had landed. The villagers were behind them, murmuring things Lance couldn’t hear over his blood. He couldn’t look at them, his eyes on the crystal. He knew they were in the caves when the sole light came from within Keith’s palms, and the corner of Lance’s vision told him the sketches on the walls pulsed in time with their hearts.

They made it to the spring. There was only a trickle of water left of the spring and its small waterfall. The grass was course under their knees.

Keith collapsed there, eyes wide.

Allura came in front of them. Somehow, Lance knew to let go and the others followed suit, stepping back. He stayed beside Keith, holding him upright as he watched Keith gaze upon the crystal.

Lance couldn’t feel it anymore the way he use to. It was a terribly empty feeling.

He sucked in a shaky breath.

He watched as Allura accepted the crystal, guiding Keith’s hands to the dirt. Its light filtered thinly through their fingers. Then, with a final pulse, it was gone into the earth.

The moon held still. Lance could feel all the remaining living things holding their breaths collectively.

Then, like a ripple on a quiet lake, the crystal pulsed. Lance felt it under his feet, just once.

From where the pulse originated, the effect spread. The brittle strands of the grass brightened ever so slightly, and the waterfall, once a trickle, began to spill with renewed, nascent life. Above them, the leaves fattened and swayed with a breeze.

It was far from the lush scene Lance captured in his memory. There were branches still bare, patches of earth still dried and bruised. But he looked past those and into the color rising to what plants had yet to wilt.

Lance didn’t know why it all made him feel so grateful, and yet so sad.

The breeze swept up, angling their heads toward what pockets of sky could be seen. Around him, he heard the delight spreading through the natives and other aliens that had followed them.

Lance couldn’t spare them a look. He looked down as Keith moved, his eyes screwed tightly, palms in fists. He hunched over, as overcome with agony. And then, on an exhale, his limbs relaxed.

Lance caught Keith as unconsciousness finally took him.

 **-x-**  

_Thank you._

**-x- X **-x-****

Lance awoke from the cryopod first.

He kind of expected it, and yet he still couldn’t help notice everyone was there to greet him except Keith. It was strange, to feel a pang after being healed up. Like experiencing your first, real hurt as a kid all over again.

Hunk hugged him almost to suffocation, Shiro with much lighter pressure, and Coran not so much. Even Pidge patted him thoroughly, and Allura gave both his shoulders a squeeze that put a proud blush on Lance’s face.

He’d slept the equivalent of four human days.

It did his heart good what he learned over a meal that would hopefully satisfy his ravenous appetite. Laranta and its moon had been on the cusp of collapsing. Yet somehow, through some fierce will and Team Voltron’s help, they were rebuilding. The planet's life was spared, life capable of growing once more. The buildings that once floated had all crumbled, but there was life in the soil. Laranta's way of life would change, but it was not dead.

Allura and Coran provided their expertise in solidifying a foundation for the galaxy’s overlapping cultures. Lance got that there was opposition and spite from the monarch’s agreement, but Lance held hope for them. If anyone could smooth over politics, it was Allura. Lance was please with all of it, more so when he finally saw the images of what Lotor had been trying to salvage from the facility.

A machine whose mechanisms reminded Lance of the lions. Only this creation had a serpentine quality about it, a wrongness. If Lotor had succeeded in implanting the crystal into this thing, Lance knew it would have been an abomination. Lance imagined Lotor still out there, working on these creations and hunting for other ancient powers like the crystal. It was a thought that would haunt him until they dealt with Lotor.

Lance, for once, was happy to do the grunt work around Laranta to keep his mind from thinking on that.

“Are you sure you should be moving around so much after everything?” Hunk had asked him. He’d been keeping closer tabs on Lance whenever he left the castle to assist in one project or another (that, again, for once, did not involve winking at pretty aliens).

Not that it was hard to find such pretty aliens. It was like they had all flocked over when they heard he was awake, aliens from the various planets of the galaxy coming to assist in rebuilding Laranta. Plenty wanted to get an eyeful of Team Voltron and the long lost princess. Just as plenty wanted a view of the escort Paladin that had triggered the downfall of Lotor (so the tales sometimes went, and Lance wasn’t above letting them word it as they saw fit).

The natives were down here too, providing crops and help where they could. Of course their attention swayed to Lance multiple times. In those cases, Lance was happy for it, and he would forever argue with Pidge that he, in fact, did not tear up when the native kids all swarmed at him the day he woke up from his deep sleep.

And then, when a day’s work was fulfilled, Lance watched Keith sleep.

He’d press his hand to the glass when no one else was around, and reached for that bond that the crystal had pushed into his psyche. He could swear he felt it, but each time he convinced himself he was tired from the work, and it was his own heartbeat he felt, not Keith’s. Some nights he'd stay there late, turning the dagger he'd gifted Keith in his hand.

So the hard work kept him occupied, until it distracted him.

“Lance,” Shiro said one morning, gesturing, “let me introduce you to someone that’s been helping us out.”

Not that the introduction was necessary. Lance blanched as he accepted the familiar alien’s greeting. The very alien Keith had impersonated.

“It is a great honor and privilege to directly meet at last,” the royal alien said, their accent rolling the words with a lulling smoothness. "We have heard of the great deeds you accomplished, in particular yours and that of your recovering comrade. Not to mention what your team did for my planet."

Lance mentally fell back to the moment he saw this alien’s image on the screen. His interest had been piqued, and though the creature in front of him was lovely, all his mind could think of was how much more vibrant Keith’s eyes were, how many more strands of hair he had loose and needing to be tucked back into place.

He was seriously in big trouble with those thoughts.

Lance grinned and offered his hand.

“My reputation precedes me, huh?" Lance said. "Well, I’m Lance, the hero in all of this, but you already knew that.”

“Lance,” Shiro said.

“ _One_ of the heroes.”

“A hero, indeed.” The alien caught on quick and returned the handshake without difficult. “It is not much, but we’ve come to provide whatever assistance we could the moment we received word of what transpired. We aren't equipped for offense, but we have resources that could assist. We will do all we can.”

Lance smiled. “That’s...really amazing of you, actually.”

“We know what the Galra can do.” The alien gave him a gentle smile. "And we have learned that hope is quite the powerful asset. We will spread it where we can."

Lance spent the bulk of the day offering his own assistance to the royal alien in any way he could. He pretended he didn’t see a resemblance in Keith, and pretended even less he got pink in the face when they discussed Keith himself.

The way the royal alien had smiled was knowing. Lance was starting to feel like people were getting in on a secret he didn’t quite get.

That same night, he watched Keith sleep, like he did since he got out of the cryopod.

He wasn’t surprised to receive company, until that company was Marik. Their former guide’s arm was still healing, but Lance had seen the large alien doing plenty of heavy work, both on the political front and labor.

Seeing him now, tired but not as weary, Lance didn’t know what the hell to say.

“Oh,” Marik said for both of them. “Apologies. I...should have expected you were here.”

“I take it you didn’t come to see me.”

Marik’s gaze flicked to the sleeping Keith. “I have no right, yet the princess assured me I should come visit. Though...he still sleeps.”

"Are you worried?"

"I am," Marik said, so honestly Lance had to laugh. "What is funny?"

"Nothing. I just," Lance shook his head. "Guess I'm a little anxious too." He gestured his chin to Keith. “Allura says we can feel the presence of people in there. That it’s good to visit people healing in them.”

“Can he feel us?”

Lance shrugged. “Yeah, and no. Not in a specific way.”

Marik nodded. He shifted. Fidgeted.

“Jeez, just sit down. You're making me more nervous."

Not surprisingly, Marik’s ears perked up and relief flooded his features. Without further protest, he joined Lance on the perch where they both could study Keith.

They didn’t talk at first, and Lance was okay with that. Marik might be good with words, but he said a lot more in his actions. Not just in trying to stop Lotor. In his efforts to stitch Laranta and its galaxy back together, Lance saw a creature that had found purpose again in life. Lance didn’t know what exactly triggered Marik from letting the crystal do what it wanted, to now building a new Laranta.

Lance knew he didn’t really have the right to ask either.

So the silence was amiable, both of them having said plenty in the work they did everyday to put this galaxy back on its own feet.

Eventually though, Lance had to give into the itch and say, “You like him a lot.”

Marik looked at him. “Who?”

Lance rolled his eyes, gesturing at Keith with his chin. “Who else? ‘His Eminence’, duh.”

Marik’s eyebrows up went up. “Of course. Do you not as well?”

Lance wasn’t sure they were talking about the same degree of like. He decided it was better they didn’t know. This was fine, like this, after all.

“Yeah,” Lance said. “I really do.”

On another night, Pidge kept him company through it all. In part, Pidge said it was because they couldn't get any peace for work with the castle flooded with everyone. Lance had made a little fuss about it. Internally, he was grateful to have an excuse to stay up late watching Keith. Most nights Shiro or Coran would lecture him into leaving to get some sleep.

Pidge's tapping was weirdly comfortable too. Like things could be normal again.

"So," Pidge said, still typing, "are you like...a thing?"

Lance tensed. "Thing?"

Pidge rolled his eyes. "God, I swear I'm the only one that has a brain sometimes."

Lance frowned over at him. Pidge's typing escalated, harder and faster. The classic Pidge-was-annoyed sign.

"Hey, I take offense to that. I'm smart."

"Yeah, a smart ass. Not the same thing." Pidge sighed, shutting their laptop. "Look, I don't care about labels. That's not why I was asking. I'm just saying, if you guys aren't  _something_ , then you're dumber than you look. And that's a lot, Lance."

"Hey!" Lance straightened. Part of him though digested those words. It was the part of him that hadn't made his voice go all shrill with mortification at whatever Pidge was implying.

"I'm just  _saying_." Pidge narrowed both eyes at him, huffed, and opened their laptop again. Whatever else they said was in a string of mutters Lance couldn't pick out clearly.

Lance hesitated with saying anything. "Does it matter?"

"What? If you're something? That's not my business to say, but," Pidge trailed off, sighing again. They leaned back against the pillar, staring upward. "You two almost died. Keith really, really almost died. Probably should have died."

Lance growled. "Don't say that."

"I'm not wrong. If any other human had endured...that, they'd be dead." Pidge blinked, but their mind was an enigma to Lance. When they spoke, their voice was smaller, much more like the kid Pidge could be mistaken for if you were ignorant enough. "But here you both are. That's what I mean. That you're both...here. You know." 

Lance held his breath. He didn't look away from Pidge. After a moment, he got up and flopped down beside Pidge. He nudged their shoulder with his.

"Lance and Keith."

Pidge brought their attention back down. "Huh?"

Lance scratched his nose, looking anywhere but directly at Pidge. "That's...what we are, I think. Just Lance and Keith."

"Lance and Keith," Pidge repeated.

"I could give us something flashier."

"Please don't." Pidge hummed, tapping their chin. Then, they nodded. "Yeah. Okay. That makes sense."

"Does it have to make sense?"

"Nothing about you usually makes sense," Pidge said.

"Aw, that sounded like a compliment coming from you." Lance grinned, nudging Pidge again. "Come on. Say it."

"I wish Keith would wake up to choke you right now."

"You love me," Lance said. "I'm amazing, right?"

"Please shut the hell up."

Two nights later, Keith finally did wake, in the private company of their team. Lance was the first to step forward and catch Keith as he stumbled loose from the pod. He felt full, secure in Lance’s grip, his hair soft where it tickled Lance’s cheek, his breath warm where it puffed against Lance’s neck.

Keith felt alive.

“Hey,” Lance said.

Keith straightening, blinking slowly. The speckles on his cheeks were far gone now, as were the shallow injuries. Lance knew there were a couple of scars that had to have made permanent home under the suit, but Keith was alive, and looking at him with recognition.

“Hey,” Keith said back.

Hunk tackled them. Pidge squirmed their way between them, Shiro squeezing Lance’s and Keith’s shoulder. Allura smiled fully, but Lance thought there was still a little something somber in her gaze. Coran distracted him from it by leaping into the pile of embraces as well.

“Guys,” Keith wheezed, “a little room to breathe?”

They let Keith breathe, and eat, and eat more as they detailed the events that transpired. Lance was very aware of how they all observed Keith, seeking signs of disturbance, of lingering damage. One by one, he saw relief flood their expressions as Keith held his own.

“How are you feeling?” Shiro eventually asked, because only he really could ask that without getting a bad response.

Lance worried on his lower lip, watching as Keith stared at his empty bowl.

For a while, Lance thought Keith wasn’t going to answer, or didn’t know how to. Keith hadn't seemed too surprised that Lotor had escaped, but the mere mention of the Galra twisted his face into something foul. Now, gradually, Keith took a deep breath and said, “I'm glad.”

It satisfied everyone for now. Though Lance had a feeling at some point, some day in the future, Allura would inquire more. Maybe after she told the tales she could not tell them yet, of their lions, of Lotor. If she ever did. 

After, Keith put himself right to work despite the insistence otherwise. Lance knew he wouldn't have let himself be kept indoors, like something damaged. In a way, Lance was happy to see him on the move, even if it was different. Keith moved with the same reckless aggression he was prone to, but there were moments he'd stand still, as if overcome with something mentally. His gaze would get distant, and then it was gone, in a blink, and he was moving again. Lance was sure he wasn't the only one who noticed it. 

No one dared to say anything on it, so Keith joined the task of rebuilding Laranta.

The reception Keith received was nothing short of a small celebration. The villagers, especially the kids, flocked to him, their joy spreading something warm inside Lance. Keith didn't shy away as much as before, crouching to their eye-level the way Lance would. He made a point to ruffle each puff of hair equally, and indulged their questions. 

Out of the robes, Keith didn't look any less striking. Lance watched him from a distance. Even as he worked, his stomach flipped when he was caught stealing glances at Keith. By Keith, no less.  It didn't help when the native children threw around the  _male lle_ term as if it were the most natural way to describe them.

Not that they were wrong, Lance was beginning to feel. He didn't ever correct them.

That night, Lance went to the tucked away spring in the cave. He found Keith there. The light trickled over him in all the right ways, highlighting the line of his jaw, the lines of his body. Lance couldn't remember if he'd always taken in Keith like this without knowing he was doing it.

“Hey,” Lance said, once he'd found his courage.

Keith glanced back at him. “Hey.”

It was the least articulate Lance had been with him since...well, too long ago. Before the crystal fused with Keith. Before Lotor. Before…

There were hands on his, and Lance only then realized his own were trembling. He blinked up at Keith and balked out a weak laugh. “Must be cold,” he said. "Or from working all day."

“Yeah, must be.” Keith’s hands moved without hesitation, smoothing over Lance’s tremors. 

Lance focused on where they touched, reaching out. He still felt it, a thread between them that felt thicker with contact.

“I wasn’t sure you’d wake up,” Lance said. He whispered it, hoping Keith didn’t hear.

“I woke up.”

Lance dared to flick his eyes up. In the light that filtered through, he saw Keith’s pretty eyes, unmarred by the crystal. Something different shone in them, and Lance thought it was one of the scars none of them could see.

When Keith held his gaze, it was enough as an invitation as any for Lance to recognize the trauma that had to live under Keith’s psyche. Ashamed he was given permission to know this, Lance looked away quickly and cleared his throat.

“It’s been...one hell of a mission, huh?”

“Lance.”

Lance made himself look at Keith again because he was Lance, and not intimidated by the likes of anything Keith could ever show him.

Keith’s face was going pink. How he could weave his fingers through Lance’s like it was no big deal shouldn’t have been an enigma. Somehow, in that moment, it was for Lance.

“I didn’t know if you’d be there when I woke up.”

Lance scoffed. “Of course I would be. I got out of the pod first. Me, number one. Always.”

The oomph behind the words fell flat. Lance bit his lip, squeezing their fingers together. “Are you,” he trailed off. Okay? No. Of course not. “I mean. Nevermind. That was...you know. None of this was,” god he really wasn’t articulate lately, “you know.”

“I know,” Keith said.

They sat down, shoulder to shoulder.

Lance smoothed his free hand over the grass. “Is it...gone?” he asked, not able to clarify what he meant.

Luckily, for once, it didn’t go over Keith’s head. “It was part of me,” Keith said. “And now it’s not.”

Lance gave a small nod.

"It's..."

Lance leaned more into Keith. “Yeah. I know,” he said. And he did know. Maybe not to the degree that Keith did, but he knew.

After a while, Lance went on, “I can’t stop thinking if we could have helped it.”

Keith inhaled sharply. Lance snuck a glance at him, finding Keith’s eyes shutting. When they opened, Keith tilted his head upward.

“Scars can only go so deep, Lance.”

“That’s pretty profound coming from you.”

Keith didn’t look back at him, but his lips twitched. Lance felt his heart soar at that tiny gesture.

“I don’t think we can ever really know,” Keith said. “I just...I think it’s found what peace it can.”

Lance felt his stomach drop slightly at Keith’s tone. Not that Lance would admit it, but he felt like an idiot for thinking Keith wouldn’t have known better than any of them. He figured Keith had expended so much of himself fighting to calm the crystal, to give it hope.

To see the crystal go the way it had decided, it couldn’t have been easy for someone like Keith.

"It knew Allura?" Lance asked, unable to help himself. "She...was talking to it?"

"It wasn't talking. It's like feelings, images," Keith said, rubbing his neck. "I sort of felt it, but I tried...not to. It didn't feel right."

"Right. That makes sense." As much sense as any of it could make.

"It knew her dad."

"Oh..."

Keith looked down to the patchy earth. "It never forgot him. I still don't know if it had hope King Alfor would come back. But I guess that doesn't matter now."

“Laranta and this moon have hope again,” Lance said. “It gave that to them, even after what had been done to it.”

“Then why does it still feel unfair?”

Lance brought Keith’s hand into his lap, held his fist with both of his hands. Gradually, the muscles relaxed. It might always feel unfair, and worse, it would linger as a pain within Keith none of them could fake understanding.

But Lance figured he could try, and he could try to assuage it. As his finger stroked the relaxing muscles, he searched for that inner thread between them.

Keith leaned into him. His breathing regulated.

"You can't hear it anymore." Lance didn't form it into a question.

"No." 

"Do you...does it hurt?"

Keith's silence answered him.

Lance swallowed, feeling like he was treading precarious territory. He reminded himself that this was still Keith, and he wasn't fragile. "I think it would have hurt more without you, Keith. Whatever it was that it made it pick you...I think it helped it in the end."

Keith squeezed his hand.

After another pause, Lance asked, "What made it change its mind?" 

To his surprise, Keith looked like he was giving the question legitimate thought. In the end, Keith said, "Even after all that it went through, in the end, it still wanted to do something great. Something good." He didn't elaborate, and Lance figured he probably couldn't if he tried. Keith wasn't revered for his use of words. Maybe that too played a part in the crystal's choice. Maybe Pidge was a little right too, of something a little otherworldly about Keith.

Lance smiled faintly at the way Keith re-weaved their fingers together though. It said plenty more than anything Keith could articulate. Lance was getting use to this sensation of touching him again, even if he felt the heat rush to his face at the idea of doing this regularly. He was grateful he didn’t have to look Keith in the eyes right now. Not that he was embarrassed. Not him. Lance was the epitome of a smooth-operator.

Suddenly, Keith asked, “Do you think it...went anywhere?”

“Went where?”

“You know...if it would go somewhere after…”

“That’s a big question.”

Keith got quiet.

Lance hesitated. “Where it was most happy, that’s where it went.”

“What?"

“It’s, uh, something my grandma has told me. Wherever you wanted to be most, when you were happiest, that’s where we go.”

“What if it was with someone, not a place?”

“Still works.”

Keith seemed to consider that.

“I mean... you think there was somewhere like that for it?’ Lance asked.

Keith inhaled slowly, deeply. “Yeah. There was.”

Lance nodded, knowing better than to ask. At least tonight. He figured now a good a time as any to fish out the dagger he kept on him. 

When he presented it to Keith, he said, "Not sure you still wanted it."

Keith took his hand back to grip the hilt, run his fingers through the gems. There was a familiarity in the affection he held for a dagger. Lance hadn't been sure Keith would want to touch a symbol of his time on Laranta. Though no one would talk about it now, Lance didn't doubt they all had plans to keep an eye on Keith all the same. You didn't come back unscathed from something like that.

"You found it?" Keith asked. 

"More by luck. It's still yours."

Keith sheathed it, tucking it next to the dagger he always carried on him. His fingers found Lance's again.

“What happens now?” Keith asked.

“Well, we should be good to leave soon and do the same old Team Voltron stuff. Save a civilization, liberate another planet, maybe a whole galaxy again. But first, I promised the kids we'd play another match of Team Keith versus Team Lance."

“That’s not what I mean.” Keith’s thumb swept over Lance’s knuckles.

Oh. Lance swallowed his heart back down.

"But yeah, I'd like to play with them again," Keith added.

Lance peered at Keith, fell into those nice eyes. It was funny to think how much he noticed them the same distance they were now. Only it had been over a fire, forever ago before they knew what they had gotten into.

Lance didn’t know what to say to Keith’s expectations. He could only fathom what lingered in Keith’s mind after all this, what damage they would never see, and how it warped whatever doubts he had about...well, what was this?

Deciding that labels were not going to do him any good, Lance just gave Keith one of his side smiles. What did happen now?

“It happens,” Lance said.

Keith kissed him.

Lance kissed him right back.

It ended with a sweet smack of their lips. Lance shivered at Keith's fingers dragging along his back.

The touch paused. "Is it bad?"

"Just battle scars. Sexy, I'm told." At Keith's hard look, Lance sighed. "It acts up sometimes. Feel free to pamper me when it does."

"Is that part of the 'it happens' you were talking about?"

"It can be," Lance said, leaning closer. He didn't want to let Keith go just yet. "I'm pretty sure everyone else knew it was happening anyway."

"That _what_ was happening?"

Lance groaned. "Nevermind. It was probably your fault anyway."

“How is what-” Lance swallowed the response in another, chaste kiss.

“-my fault,” Keith finished, flushed across his face. He never looked more alive than he did now. Lance's heart stuttered at the sight of him, knowing that maybe some days would be off for Keith in the future, but it wouldn't strip him of being Keith. It wouldn't make his hands any less warm against Lance's skin, his lips no less willing against Lance's.

It was way more than enough. Lance would never not be grateful for that.

“It just is.”

“Maybe it was yours.”

Lance focused on the way his lips tingled, and the way his chest felt lighter. He felt like a kid, weightless and happy. It was like he could breathe easier, and planned to as long as he could. And while he knew none of this craziness could be pinpointed as anyone's fault, Lance considered taking the blame. After all, at the end of it all, Keith was alive, next to him, holding Lance's hand. And they'd see Laranta was in a better place than it was before, and they'd play with the native children again before they left, and bring those big smiles of hope and joy to the rest of the universe.

Then, home. Together.

"Yeah," Lance said, smiling. "Totally my fault."

**-X-**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thaaaaaaaank you endlessly for all the support! Each kudos made me smile and every beautiful comment really kept me writing. I'm sorry it was over a long period of time, but we finally made it thanks to the support of this story. I really wouldn't have been invested in finishing without the feedback, so THANK YOU. I am sorry if I didn't personally reply to your comment. I will still try to, because they each mean so much to me.
> 
> Originally it was going to be two more chapters but I really didn't like the last bit separated so I included it as the final part of this story in this post. I wanted it to read a little differently than the other parts to signal the story's finally, and leave a couple of things ambiguous. 
> 
> And yeah, I'm corny for tying the last line back to the first line of chapter 1. Also, sorry for any errors. I always miss little errors but I try to go back and fix them if I find them. 
> 
> Welp, I can only hope you enjoyed the end of the ride for this one! It was made fun by all you guys giving a kudos or taking the time to leave a wonderful comment.
> 
> Til the the next fic! 
> 
> THANK YOU AGAIN ♥


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